


Be Mine

by toxik_angel



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon!Shane, Friends to Lovers, Human Ryan Bergara, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jealousy, Leprechaun!Shane, M/M, Oblivious Ryan Bergara, Relationship(s), Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Shane Madej Is So Whipped, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), overthinking bergara, shane is dummy soft for ryan, vampire!Shane, werewolf!Shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxik_angel/pseuds/toxik_angel
Summary: Note: new title, same fic.Ryan knew about the rumors, of course, he'd seen the comments. Shane is a demon, Shane is an immortal, Shane is a vampire... but he never believed them. Now, he's watching his coworker and best friend like a hawk, overthinking every move he makes. And of course, Shane notices.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 176
Kudos: 320





	1. It all started when...

**Author's Note:**

> Please respect these boys' real lives. Stories are just that, don't dismiss their sexualities or relationships, I just love borrowing their chemistry for some fun AUs
> 
> Don't forget to subscribe to Watcher if you haven't already, it's a great channel with incredible content!
> 
> Inspo board on my Pinterest: https://pin.it/4hJ0YuN

**Ryan**

I don't condone reading the comment section of your own videos. I, personally, need to, since I have a followup show answering questions from said comment section. But in general, one should avoid it, and in some ways, I wish I had.

Maybe 3 episodes after Shane joined _Unsolved,_ I found the first comment.

I remembered it because it gave me quite a laugh, reading "Shane is an immortal, change my mind." The absurdity made me giggle, but I scrolled through other comments looking for questions. After that, "Shane is a" fill-in-the-blank comments started coming in more frequently, especially during the Supernatural episodes.

I never gave it much credence - so maybe Shane kept to himself a lot and is a pretty bizarre guy, he always has his nails pained black, dresses like it's 1870 and is extremely pale, that doesn't mean he's some kind of supernatural monster. I always just assumed he was just gay. Plus, he eats food, sleeps, poops, everything normal humans do. Just a bizarre, gay, white guy.

After a while, the whole idea lost its draw and I forgot about it.

I have to admit, when Unsolved first started, I had asked Shane to co-host after Brent left mainly because I knew he was available and pretty good on-camera. But we weren't particularly close at the time, not nearly as good friends as we became after the first season. The show really took off due to our on-screen chemistry, and it wasn't long before he had become one of my good friends. It was midway through season two that I finally invited him over for a movie night in my apartment.

I arrived first, ordered Chinese, cleaned up a bit and set up the movie we were going to watch together. A knock at the door startled me, and I opened it to see my friend in the hallway.

"Oh hey, I just got everything set up." I waved, leaving the door open as I went to the kitchen to pull out a couple of beers for us. Shane watched me from the doorstep.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" He joked, leaning comfortably against the door frame. I laughed, jerking my chin towards the couch as I went into the living room.

"Yeah, sure, come in, weirdo."

That was that.

It didn't strike me as odd until ten minutes into the movie, when I realized what a strange quirk it is to feel uncomfortable entering a space you're clearly welcome in without being formally invited.

Maybe... that particular hangup is said to be a symptom of vampires, who have to be invited in or they're stuck on the outside.

Is Shane a vampire? Or something?

I jumped out of my skin when the doorbell rang, and Shane laughed loudly.

"I'm pretty sure that's just our food, Ryan. I'll get it." He offers, getting up.

I try to laugh along with him, but it's obvious that the sound is off, and he looks at me sideways.

I hear him talking to the man at the door, and try to get my pounding pulse under control before he gets back.

"You alright, little guy? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" He quips as he sits back down with the food.

"Shut up, Shane." I mutter, taking a long sip of my beer.

* * *

It's well-known around the office that I don't hide my emotions well. Old heart-on-his-sleeve Bergara. So I try to focus on the movie to distract myself from this whole 'Shane is a...' business. I think it works, until Shane comments.

"Ryan, this is Mission: Impossible. You've seen this at least a dozen times." He says, and I'm not sure what he expects me to say to that, if anything.

"Yeah, sorry." I mumble. Yeah, sorry? I pinch my lips together tightly and avoid talking again for awhile.

"Did I do something? You're acting really weird." He says after another few minutes.

"No, no, I'm fine, just tired and stressed, I think." I lie, trying to sound as convincing as I can. Get it together, Bergara.

"Okay."

At the end of the movie, I stretch my arms up, hearing my joints crackle and wincing. Shane grabs the remote and turns the tv off.

"You don't want to watch anything else? It's only 9." I ask, looking at him for the first time in an hour.

"You said you were tired, I don't want to overstay my welcome." He shrugs, collecting our trash into the bag the food had come in and bringing it to the kitchen to throw away.

"Damn that Midwest courtesy. It's fine if you want to hang out longer, maybe watch a couple episodes of something?" I offer, but Shane shakes his head.

"I should get back to my cat, I'm not sure he hasn't set my apartment on fire."

"Oh yeah, he's a cute little demon." I say, remembering the fiend he adopted a couple weeks ago. He'd shown the office pictures non-stop for three days.

"He's an angel, I won't stand for this slander. But he may have destroyed everything I own, so I should get home and check on him. I appreciate the invitation, though." He plunks his large self back down onto the couch, angled towards me while we talk.

"Yeah sure, anytime." I say, then, "You know, you're always welcome here, you don't have to ask to come inside."

Shane shrugs.

"I always ask, just to be sure. You never know these days." He finishes, cryptically. I frown. What the fuck ?

"Uh, sure."

Silence.

"Well, I guess I'll see you Monday?" He asks abruptly, standing and grabbing his wallet and keys off the table.

"Yeah, see you Monday, have a good weekend, man." I say, following him to the door and closing it behind him.

I sit back down again, picking up my beer bottle and picking at the label absently.

Thinking back to when I first encountered Shane, I try to analyze all the exceptionally weird crap he does.

Shane and I were hired at the same time as interns, I remember seeing the tallest man I'd ever encountered off the basketball court my first day. We made eye contact and he smirked at me, winking. I felt weird about it and looked away, and avoided any interaction for the rest of the internship. When we were both offered jobs at the end of the internship, the overlords at Buzzfeed thought it best to seat us at side-by-side desks. That was fine.

_Shane was already at his desk when I arrived, turning around when I put my laptop down._

_"Hey, Ryan Bergara." I said, holding my hand out. Shane raised one eyebrow and one side of his mouth, taking my hand. His was cool to touch._

_"Shane. Nice to meet you, Bergara." He turned back to his desk, and I sat down. It seemed like he was done interacting with me, but then he started talking again after a few minutes. I nearly jumped._

_"What do they have you working on now?" He asked, not turning away from the video he was editing._

_"I uh... just whatever video needs editing, I don't have a show or anything yet. What about you?"_

_"Same for me, I'm working on a couple of pitches to show Zach." He frowns, leaning closer to look at the footage he's working on._

_"Oh, that's awesome, bro." I say automatically, not missing the way his lips twitch at that._

_From there, my relationship with Shane was pretty casual, we didn't talk much, didn't really work on anything together. Every now and then, he'd mess with me in some small way that made me laugh._

_First, he left a paperclip on my desk when I wasn't looking, which escalated into about three dozen over the course of a couple days before I noticed any. One day, he swapped my laptop for a cardboard replica, cartoonish in its simplicity. After each prank, he would glance over, winking and laughing with me._

_I brought him coffee from the break room one day after he seemed to be struggling on whatever he was working on. He smiled gratefully, muttering a soft 'thank you.'_

_When I got into the office the next day, a Starbucks cup was sitting on my desk with 'Ryan' written in sharpie on the side. I took a sip, surprised when it was exactly as I take my coffee - two sugars, a dash of cream. Shane wasn't at his desk for another hour, although his coat was there when I arrived. By then, I had headphones on and didn't hear him until he'd sat down, and I contemplated whether or not I should say something. While I was coming up with a funny way to thank him, he put his headphones on as well, tuning out while he opened his computer up and started typing away at a script, I missed the moment._

_I pitched Unsolved to the producer I worked with the most, Zach Kornfeld. He loved the idea immediately, green lighting it and suggesting I ask Brent if he would be interested in cohosting, as he was mostly free to film that week._

_Brent said yes, and we filmed the next day. It was just a short video of me telling my buddy a spooky story about a man found dead on a beach. I'd add in some graphics and picture from the case in post, so neither of our faces would actually be in the video. We had a good time filming, added in a joke here and there off-script. I thanked him for joining me after we filmed, taking the file back to my desk to edit, giddy._

_I wanted to tell Shane about my new show, but he was off somewhere, and I had shifted into editing mode by the time he got back._

_After a few episodes, Brent told me he didn't think he could keep being in the show. With the travelling and filming everything, he didn't have the time in his schedule. He was still on the hook to produce his own videos. I shrugged it off, thanking him for doing the show and telling him I'd see him around._

_Who the fuck am I going to have on the show now?_

_My eyes shifted to the side, making eye contact with Shane._

_"Yeah, sure, I've got some free time this week." He replied without me even asking. "I'm quite fond of the funny little stories."_

_And so, Shane had ended up joining the show and making it take off. We got the okay for a second season, as well as a higher budget, and we celebrated by going out for drinks that night. Shane finally put his phone number into my phone, telling me to text him when I got home to make sure I made it safely. I grinned up at him._

_"Thanks for everything, big guy. I can't wait for season 2."_

_He smiled back, muttering something back that I couldn't hear. He walked me out to my Uber, waving as I drove off with a big grin on my face._

Now, Shane and I are good friends, which makes my job a lot easier. He's fun to banter with, easy to work with and generally a pleasant and well-liked person.

I'm not sure why all of a sudden, I'm seriously considering the dumb comments about Shane being some kind of monster.


	2. Just me? Or?

"Hey, Devon, do you have a sec?" I ask our managing producer, Devon, who I have cornered in the break room. She looks at me strangely.

"Yeah, sure. You alright, Ryan? You look pretty spooked."

"I'm... so you know how Shane is kind of a weird person?" I ask, not really sure how to answer her question.

"Yeah, I guess. Did something happen?" She squints, lowering her voice.

"Not... not exactly. He came over the other day and wouldn't come inside my apartment without being invited in. It just threw me off, I guess. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but I started going over some of the other weird stuff he does, like he's obsessed with history, and he knows a ton of really random history, he's insanely pale for a guy that's been living in LA for many years, he's always cold..." I trail off as Devon looks thoughtful.

"Come to think of it, he does have some... unnatural behaviors. I've seen him flinch away from holy symbols before, like a cross on a necklace someone was wearing. He flinched when he saw it, and didn't approach the person." She offers.

"Well that fits into my theory, then, that Shane is some kind of vampire or immortal?" I hear the end of my statement turn into a question. Devon frowns slightly.

"I was thinking maybe a demon, or demon possessed, if he maybe picked up something on location?"

"But he's been weird the whole time I've known him, which was way before Unsolved." I point out. "And then there's his outfits, I've never seen him in sweatpants or a tshirt or anything, even when we're on location, he sleeps in those fancy pajama sets."

"And his _nails_?" Devon whispers, holding out her own hand so I can look at her nail polish. It's chipped on most fingers. "No matter what, nail polish chips off around the three day mark, as anyone who wears it. Shane's is _always_ perfect. Never dents or chips. Like he's hiding claws or something?" She offers. I shake my head.

"Vampire corpse nails, they would give away his cover, so he keeps them painted."

"Either way, pretty obsessive if he repaints them multiple times in a week."

"Repaints what?"

Devon and I both jump at the voice entering the conversation. Curly is behind us, filling up his coffee mug. I clear my throat.

"Hey, Curly, have you noticed any... weird habits... that Shane may have?" I ask him carefully. Curly laughs.

"Shane is a weird man, Ryan, I don't pay attention to half the shit he does. Why do you ask?"

"We think he may be a supernatural creature of some kind." Devon tells him. Curly's eyebrow quirks, like this isn't what he was expecting, but not necessarily surprising him.

"Supernatural? Hm, can I suggest a werewolf? He's very... mysterious and sexy." Curly mimes a clawing gesture, and I shake my head.

"I doubt it, we've filmed on full moons, nothing happened."

"Well, then I have nothing. Let me know if a betting pool starts, though, I'm in."

And with that, Curly leaves us.

"I should get back to my desk." I tell Devon. "Let me know if you think of anything else."

"Sure will. I'm sure it's nothing, he hasn't done anything to make me think he's a malicious entity. Mischievous, maybe."

That's the last I think of the matter for a few days, drowning in work and with more pressing deadlines to occupy my mental space. But it sits in the back of my brain, poking my subconscious every now and then.

Still, we have a season to film and edit, and even with my doubts of Shane's humanity, our banter is easy and fun.

Everything is going well, until Shane keeps going a little too long on one of his bits. While filming Waverly, he starts his proclamation while moving down the halls with me, our crew trailing slightly behind us. We turn to face them when we enter one of the rooms.

“Be the reason why you are haunted. Go someplace you're not supposed to, learn a dead language, straight up fuck a demon. It’s your life.” Shane gestured with the handheld camera, and I tried to respond naturally, which of course, fails.

At the mention of a demon, I made eye contact with Devon across the room. Her eyes were wide as saucers. I tried to save face by covering up my reaction with a joke, but it received a bland reaction from Shane and TJ, although the latter barely reacted even when it was a good bit. They chalk it up to me being insanely scared tonight, which is fair.

When Shane went off to do his solo investigation, Devon appeared at my side.

"Do you think he... slept with a demon?" She whispers so quietly, I almost can't hear her. We make eye contact, but no other conversation happens at that point.

After I get home, I open up an empty notebook, scrawling everything I can think of onto the pages.

"Shane: vampire? immortal? demon?

For:

Pale as fuck

Always dresses fancy

Cold hands

Not scared of anything

Knows way too much history for a film major

Corpse nails always painted perfectly

May have reacted to holy symbol (cross necklace)

Against:

Cool guy

Seems normal

Eats food

Sleeps"

With those thoughts written down, I wrack my brain for any others, but can't think of much. I pull the elastic band over the cover, hooking the pen onto the pages. The notebook goes in my laptop bag, in case I have any new additions at work tomorrow.

I hear my phone ping as I brush my teeth. It's Devon.

Devon: Have you tried holy water?

Ryan: how would i possibly do that naturally

Devon: Put it in his coffee or something?

Ryan: you diabolical bastard.

Ryan: I'll try tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos on chapter 1! It's great to see people actually reading this story! Let me know what you think of the next few chapters, I have some fun scenes coming up. Have a great day!


	3. Holy Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan watches his coworker (a little too) closely for any signs of supernatural behavior

“Coffee?” I set a steaming cup down on Shane’s desk.

The majority of the mug was filled with coffee, but I’d added a splash of Father Thomas’s holy water to see if he would react at all. Shane looked up from his screen.

“Sure, thanks. Man, this script writing part is tough, I have such a hard time deciding which details to put in. There are just so many cool aspects of the story I won't have time to talk about.” He tells me absently, picking up the mug. “I mean, I knew what I signed up for when I started Ruining History, but it’s more work than you make it seem.” He complains, taking a sip and distracted enough that my silence isn’t concerning. I watch closely, and sure enough, his face scrunches up and he swallows.

"You alright there?"

“Ryan, did you make this coffee?” He asks, and I can feel my heartbeat in my face when I answer.

“No, it was already made when I got here.” 

“Thank fuck, I thought you’d lost your touch. This is watery as hell.” He says, pushing the mug away.

Okay... so not actually any useful information there.

Devon looks at me from across the room, eyebrows up. I shake my head, lifting my shoulders slightly in an uncommitted gesture.

Fuck, on to phase two.

xXx

Shane definitely says some really weird shit. For example, there was that whole bit about fucking a demon. Still, even for a guy from the Midwest with questionable taste in things, and who doesn't actually believe in any higher power, he references the supernatural frequently.

In our latest Post Mortem, the topic of taking pictures of your friends comes up.

"Well, what if something happens to them, and the dumb selfie you took at Starbucks on a Thursday is the last known picture of them? It might be the one they use to tell people to be on the lookout." I argue, firmly pro-pictures.

"Oh, like the milk carton kids? Yeah, sure. But on the other hand, do you want a dumb selfie of you throwing up peace signs to be printed on the sides of milk cartons for a year? Wouldn't you prefer something less goofy?" Shane gestures vaguely.

"I'll be every picture of you is insanely goofy, I've never seen a good candid of you." I tease, glancing over at him frequently to make sure I'm not really hurting his feelings.

“Candid pics? No, take cryptid pics of me. Make me as blurry as possible, make my eyes glow." Shane widens his eyes comically. "Photoshop me into places I logically shouldn’t have access to. I want to be a mysterious, haunting cryptid.” Shane’s eyes gleamed as he grinned into his closeup. I rolled my eyes.

“Fuckin’ weirdo is what you are. I'll tell you what, if they ever put your dumb face on the side of a milk carton, it'd have to be the gallon jugs. No way does your giant head fit on a half-gallon."

"They could fit your whole body on a half-gallon though." He grins back, and I laugh loudly.

We wrap filming shortly after, heading back to our desks to collect our things.

"Wanna join everyone for drinks tonight? I think it's someone's birthday." I suggest as we walk towards the doors of BuzzFeed.

"I'd love to, that sounds fun."

The evening passed in a blur, turned out, it was Kelsey Darragh's birthday but people seemed to be finding that out as the night went on. People at BuzzFeed love to party, and will take any excuse to.

"What do you have there, Big Guy?" I ask, noticing Shane's fancy-looking cocktail contrasting with the standard beer I have.

"It's called Red Death, my cousin used to make it all the time. Wanna try some?" He offers, holding it out to me.

"I'll pass, thanks. I'm not really a fruity drink guy." I shrug. Not to mention, it looks like blood, especially in the dim light near the bar.

"Because of the taste or because of the connotation?" He raises one eyebrow, dipping his head down like he's searching my face.

"Oh, no I don't care- No, they're just too alcoholic, I get wasted really fast." I assure him. He hasn't told me he's gay, not in so many words, but I'd be surprised if he told me he wasn't.

"Ah, I see. I have very good alcohol tolerance." He replies, and I nod, not sure what to do with that information.

"Looks like blood." I say, trying to keep the conversation rolling. I may imagine the way Shane's eyes widen just slightly, before he starts laughing.

"It is called Red Death, it has the spooky vibe going for it."

We're interrupted by Keith yelling about singing happy birthday to Kelsey, and we all sing discordantly, but she seems too drunk to care.

During the song, I shuffled around to see better, and found myself near Curly, Shane somewhere behind us where I'd left him.

"Ryan! Hey, what's the status on vampire-werewolf-demon Shane?" He asks in a comical stage-whisper. I look around in panic, but Shane isn't nearby and nobody else seems to be paying attention.

"No idea, man, he's drinking a bloody-looking cocktail right now, I don't know what to think about that."

"Lots of cocktails are red, sweetie."

"Yeah, I know." I say, almost petulantly. Everything is reading as _strange_ \- but not _confrontational_ strange, just barely noticeable. "He said some weird shit in our Post Mortem earlier, so I don't know what to think." I admit.

"Weird shit?"

"Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary for him, but something about being a mysterious cryptid? I don't know, I'd have to rewatch the footage."

"That's not that weird, especially not for Shane."

"I know, I know, but it's just... everything together." I say, sipping my beer. Curly's eyes glance up behind me, round in their surprise. Before I have a chance to turn around, I hear a voice behind my ear, a little too close for comfort.

"Is there a problem?" He asks, and now I turn around.

"Hey Big Guy!" I say, mortified. "No, just uh- just catching up with my friend Curly." I try to recover, wondering how long he'd been standing behind me.

"So I see. Any fun office gossip?" He asks, one long eyebrow raised, almost challenging.

"N-no, nothing particularly interesting. I was telling him about our-"

"I can't wait for your episode on La Llorona, you _have_ to bring me along for it." Curly interrupts me, saving my ass. I flash him a look of gratitude.

"I told him it would be okay to bring him, do you- is that fine with you?" I ask, stumbling around the lie. Shane looks unimpressed.

"If we do an ep on her, of course you can come. It would be fun to have someone else there to balance out the little guy." He says dryly, no emotion at all in his voice. I feel my soul cringe.

"Don't know how it would help, Curly is a Boogara." I say, for lack of a better response. Shane shrugs.

"Well, I think I'll be heading out pretty soon, just uh... thought I should let you know." He says, and the face he has on, one of betrayal? makes me feel incredibly guilty. Maybe he did hear us over the rumble of the bar and the noise of the party. _How_ would he have heard that, though?

"Already? Yeah, okay, need a ride?" I ask, although I've had enough to drink that I won't be driving home tonight.

"I'm going to call an Uber, and you shouldn't drive either." He says, pointing one of those long fingers at me. Out of habit, I glance at his nails. Devon was right, they're still perfectly blacked out, no chips or dents. Shane is watching me when I look back to his face. _Fuck._

"I won't, I promise." I say, patting his arm awkwardly.

After all the insane situations we've been in, this is the first time I've felt awkward around Shane since we'd met.

"I'll see you at the office." He says, sounding forlorn. I look up at his face, hoping he can see the regret in my eyes, but he leaves soon after.

Curly doesn't say anything, but his face tells me everything I need to know.

I don't see much of him after that, just around the office and any work-related events we both attend. He doesn't go out for after-work drinks with our coworkers anymore, and leaves our set immediately after every shoot.

It's on one of our locations a few weeks later when Devon picks up the trail.

"Shane, need any salt?" She eyed him curiously, watching for any reaction. Shane just blinked at her for a few seconds.

"Salt... on my hot dog? No thanks, I'm-I'm good..."

To be fair, that was a bit weird on her part. I've been watching Shane like a hawk recently, and don't notice anything unusual about his behavior. Even most of the weird little habits he has have died down a little, and I feel guilty about that.

I have to admit, those bizarre quirks were really endearing, like the way he levels the sugar spoon when sweetening his tea, or how, almost like a ritual, he counts every piece of equipment as we pack up, taking inventory before we leave a location.

"Hey, can I uh- can I talk to you?" I finally speak up. Shane looks across the table at me, then pointedly at Devon and Mark, who are sitting on the sides of the table. "Uh, over there?" I gesture to the open table several feet away.

Shane shrugs, taking his hot dog with him as he stands up and walks over to the table. Devon widens her eyes as I get up, but doesn't say anything.

"What's this about?" He asks, guarded. I sigh, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"Did you uh... by any chance, _hear_ what Curly and I were talking about?"

" _This_? Really, Ryan?" He frowns, sounding irritated and nervous.

"Did you?"

"Not really, we were in a bar, I just heard my name, not much else. Were you talking shit about me? Is that why you've been acting so guilty?"

"Guilty?" I ask, my voice jumping a register and not helping sell my case. "No, of course I wasn't talking shit about you. I mean, I said you're a weird guy, but I say that to your face and it never seems to bother you."

"A weird guy, huh? Thanks." He says, mumbling the words into the hot dog bun as he takes another bite.

"I'm sorry, man, I'll stop saying that. I didn't know it would bother you." I flounder.

"It's not exactly a _compliment,_ Ryan."

"No, it's- it's not... But the weird shit you do is a part of your personality, and it's like... I don't know, nice."

" _Nice?"_

"S-sure, cute? I guess." I say, fully aware of how my face is flushing a dark red right now.

"Is that what this is? You think I'm _cute,_ Bergara? You should've just said so." He says, teeth glinting as he smiles cockily.

"For fuck's sake, this is what I get for being one of the four straight guys at this company..." I trail off. Shane's eyebrows jump up.

"And that four doesn't include me?" He asks, and as if making his point, he licks the mustard off those perfectly painted fingernails. I gape at him.

"Uh... you tell me-" I stammer. I need to learn when to shut my big damn mouth.

Shane rolls his eyes, not answering me for a long time. I'm about to call it and get up when he speaks again.

"I'm... not straight. If you hadn't guessed, which your weird little declaration seems to hint that you have. I'm pan." He says, quiet, looking down at his food.

"Yeah-cool, okay. I mean, I don't like to assume, I-"

"Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"It's okay if you don't say anything. I know you don't give a shit either way." He says, and I gratefully shut up. We rejoin the crew, continuing with the shoot.

The second half goes much better, our banter is funnier and more natural, and even Teej cracks a smile once or twice. I catch Shane giving me winks when the cameras are directed elsewhere, almost like a sneaky little inside joke between the two of us, and I bite my lip to hide a smile.


	4. New Recruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan starts picking up new members for his 'figure out what Shane is' committee.

Once Curly had been inducted to the unofficial ‘why is Shane so weird’ party, new members were joining fairly often, the first of whom was none other than Zach Kornfeld.

Curly mentioned off-handedly his theory that Shane is a werewolf when Shane was spotted eating a fourth hot dog at one of our company events.

“Werewolf? Please, this fucking guy is not nearly hairy enough for that. You gotta be at least as hairy as me before I’ll take your claims seriously.” He said, loud enough for me to pick up standing a few feet away. I cringe, hoping Shane didn’t hear him.

“Zach, shut the fuck up, please. He’s got great hearing.” I protested, stepping closer to where the two gossips huddled.

“Okay, so what do you think is the reason?” Curly continues as if I hadn’t said anything.

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a leprechaun.” Zach says, covering his chin and mouth with one hand. I laugh far too loudly, and glance over at Shane to make sure he hadn’t heard me. Fortunately, he was deep in conversation with Andrew and didn’t notice.

“Leprechaun?” I sputter. “Why would you pick that, out of all creatures? They’re short, he’s 80% leg!”

“He’s too chaotic, I pick leprechaun because he’s white, so probably some form of Irish, mischievous as hell and have you heard some of the things he jokes about? Incredibly morbid.” Zach explains. I shake my head.

“You’re insane, he’s not a leprechaun. He doesn’t have red hair, he’s way too tall and sure, he loves pranks, but that doesn’t make him a leprechaun. Plus, I think he said he’s Polish.” I argue, and Zach pulls out his phone and starts typing.

“I agree with Ryan that he’s not a leprechaun, I mean, just those _legs_ alone, like-” Curly trailed off, pretending to fan himself with one hand. I roll my eyes.

“Okay, I’m looking at the Wikipedia page for them, and other than the short thing and the red hair, this describes Shane pretty well. Dresses fancy, big prankster but not the stealing-your-children type, and pretty solitary.”

Just then, Shane gets up, looming over the table he’d been sitting at to make some joke, and the small group sitting with him laugh. I frown, wondering what he’d just said.

“Shane’s not solitary, he has me.” I say, absently. My gaze is brought back to my friends as Zach snorts and Curly whistles softly. “What?” I ask.

“Shush, shush, shush, he’s coming over-” Zach bats at my hands, and I turn back around to see the object of our conversation sauntering over.

“Shane!” Curly says, grinning heartily.

“I’m suddenly having some déjà vu here,” he jokes, but after knowing him for a while, I can see through his lighthearted tone. Fuck… Even if he hasn’t heard anything, this situation is exactly like what happened at the bar.

“Oh, come on, Shane.” I say, a little too hastily. “We’re going over some new show pitches Curly has.” I lie, deciding Curly is the only one of us quick enough to come up with some actual pitches that Shane will inevitably ask to hear.

“Oh? Let me hear them.” He says, looking at Curly, barely hiding his amusement and slight irritation.

“A new channel, _Pero Like._ Special content catered to Hispanic and Latinx people.” Curly pulls out of thin air. All our eyes open wider, including Shane’s.

“That’s uh… that’s pretty good, have you pitched it yet?” He asks, clearly on board with our explanation this time.

“Not yet, I’m still brainstorming some video ideas to kick it off.” Curly answers, a bit more relaxed now that Shane is going along with our conversation.

“Well, you should. Let me know if I can help with anything, I mean, I doubt it, since I’m not Hispanic or Latino or anything, but like, you know?” He rambles, waving his hands around. Curly grins.

“No problem, Shane, I was just talking to Ryan to see if he wants to be a part since he is half Mexican and all.” Curly claps his hand on my shoulder, winking at me.

“And I’m really bummed out that I won’t be able to do much, with Unsolved filming soon, but I’ll see what I can do when we’re on hiatus.” I answer, glad that Shane’s face has relaxed into something more normal and less… betrayed.

Fuck, now I feel even worse.

xXx

Somehow, I keep finding myself in this situation. This time, it’s Sara Rubin who comes up to me.

“Hey, when is Shane’s birthday?” She asks, an innocent enough question. I frown.

“It’s… I uh, I have no idea, fuck, what kind of friend am I, I don’t even know his birthday…” I sputter. Sara looks shocked.

"Don’t you guys like, live together? How could you not know his birthday?” She asks.

“We don’t live together, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you guys always come and go at the same time.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, because we work on the same show!” I protest.

“Hey, nevermind, I guess you don’t live together. But seriously, man, how do you not know his birthday?”

“I guess I just never asked? We must’ve spent it together by now, we’ve been working on the show for like two years now.” I’m starting to have a bit of a crisis, realizing his birthday is one of many normal things I don’t know about my best friend.

“You’ve spent your birthday with him, right? You’ve just not noticed that the opposite doesn’t happen?” She asks.

“I haven’t spent any birthdays with him, mine is Thanksgiving week and we’re both out of town every year. But he texts me happy birthday… Fuck, I don’t know hardly anything about Shane.”

“Neither do I, anytime I ask him he’s always so cagey about it. That’s why I came to you, I figured you’d know.”

“I don’t, man, this is terrible, I feel like such a bad friend!” I drop my head into my hands.

“Hey hey hey, I’m sure there’s a reason why he doesn’t talk about himself! Maybe he’s just really private or embarrassed about stuff or something. Lots of people don’t like their office to know their birthday, right?”

“Sara, I don’t even know how old he is, like I’ve always assumed he’s somewhere around my age, but like, it’s never come up.” I tell her.

“I’m sorry I asked, I didn’t mean to give you an existential crisis about this.” She tries to calm me down, but now I’m running through our endless conversations and how he’s never really told me anything about himself.

“I have this… theory, and you’re going to think it’s stupid, and it probably is, but like…” I pause, deciding whether or not to just come clean to Sara. “Well, I think Shane might be a vampire.”

Sara looks at me like she’s waiting for me to break and tell her it’s a joke. When I don’t, she huffs a laugh.

“He’s not a _vampire_ , Ryan. Vampires aren’t real, if they were, we would have a docuseries about them by now.”

“I have a notebook with the weird stuff written down, but it’s at my desk.” I tell her, shrugging. I can show it to her because Shane sits next to me, and he would definitely ask what’s in my notebook.

“What kind of weird stuff, do you remember?”

“Like… he’s not scared of anything, he knows a lot of really weird things that he has no reason to know, he always has perfectly painted nails, he dresses like he’s from the 30’s…” I trail off, trying to remember what I’d written down.

“None of those things mean vampire, he’s just an unusual guy, a bit of an oddball. Maybe he’s had bad experiences with sharing a lot of personal information with people.”

“Fair, which is why I’m doing a bunch of tests to see if he is conclusively not a vampire.”

“You could just ask him,” Sara points out.

“You think he wouldn’t look me in the face and laugh at me?”

“…no he definitely would.”

“See?”

“You know, he could be running from the law. A fugitive!” Sara says, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“A _fugitive?”_ I ask in the exact tone she had used earlier. She shrugs.

“More likely than vampire.”

“Our company runs background checks!” I protest, but Sara starts to walk away, grinning at me over her shoulder.

“Maybe he’s _really good._ ” She winks.

So I’m not the only one who thinks Shane is exceptionally weird…

xXx

When I got to work the next day, Shane wasn't there yet. Not necessarily unusual, but we usually arrive around the same time, apparently feeding into the idea that we live together or something. I'd already gotten settled for the day with my coffee and my computer up and running by the time he showed up.

Shane came into the office looking again like a sexy Slenderman, wearing slacks and a matching blazer, but his black turtleneck failed to conceal a very obvious, dark hickey right below his left ear, and the top edge of another one right below it. 

"Hey man," I said, and he just nodded at me, still looking like he was just waking up.

After staring at the dark bruises for about a minute and a half, I finally was able to look away, electing not to comment on them.

When I did look away, Shane rolled his eyes, settling into his chair.

"Are you going to say something or just stare?" He asks, a little grin on his lips as he took a long drink out of a bottle.

I sputter for a second before I notice the bottle's wrapper.

"I-is that coconut water?" I ask, gesturing at it. He laughs.

"Yeah, yes it is. Alright." He shakes his head.

"I mean, we're not filming for a week, so it's whatever..." I say, bringing the conversation back to the hickeys we're not talking about.

"Exactly, so what's the big deal?" He asks, shrugging. I shrug back.

"Nothing, it's chill... Are you uh... did you start dating someone?" I ask, cringing at how awkward I'm sounding.

"I did not, just went out last night." He says, ever the calm one. I nod. He takes a drink.

"Cool, cool, good for you, man."

"Thanks, _bro."_ He answers, and I look at him weirdly at his word choice. He winks. I blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter will have a lot more Shane in it, I have it mostly written, just need to edit. Thanks again for all your support, it means the world to me! We're getting to the fun parts soon, trust me :)))


	5. Midnight Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane finds his way to Ryan's house while the world sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Didn't expect to be back so soon, but it's 2am and 2,833 words later, so here you go.

“Fuck, dude, that security guy scared the shit out of me.” I shake myself as I try to calm down after the fright of a lifetime.

“Aw come on, Ry, it wasn’t all that bad.”

Shane has begun using all manner of pet names for me, although Ry is not all that bad, even if it is pretty new. I worry that someone will overhear him and think we’re dating, but it really doesn’t matter that much anyway so I haven’t said anything to him.

“Well not for you, you’re just walking through a fun little decorated catacomb, for me it’s a screaming void full of the voices of the damned!” I complain. Shane laughs a little.

“Fair enough. Want a cookie?”

“No, I don’t want your fucking-” I trail off, grumbling to myself. Shane stands up, crowding into my space where I’m panting. “What are you-?”

“Sh, just relax, there’s nothing here but wax figures and creepy dolls.” He reassures me, angling me away so he can wrap his arms around me without crushing my chest mount.

“This place is haunted, dude.” I protest, albeit weakly, against his chest as he holds me. I’m still shaking and sweating, but calm down surprisingly quickly in his arms.

I guess it’s not that surprising, this is Shane after all.

“This doesn’t fix it, I’m still fuckin mad at you, dude.” I warn him, and he laughs quietly.

“I know, babe, I know.”

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“Sh sh sh, just relax, okay? I’ve got you.” He coos, rubbing my back soothingly. I try to muster up some irritation, but it all melts away too quickly, which, maddeningly, frustrates me in a way that is not useful right now.

“Whatever. Fuck you.”

* * *

The gentle knocking on my door rouses me from a fitful sleep. I probably would’ve missed it if it wasn’t so damn persistent. I can’t imagine who would be at my front door at this time of night, when I barely have the presence of mind to pull a shirt on over my underwear.

If they’d wanted me to wear pants to answer the door, they should’ve come by at a reasonable time.

I open the door to a disheveled Shane, who moves past me into my apartment. I just gape for a second. Even though nobody else would be on my doorstep at this time, I’m somehow still surprised to see him.

“What’s wrong with you?” I blurt out.

“You look great, too.” Shane says back, voice sounding hoarse and scratchy as he collapses onto my couch.

He’s covered in what look like bite marks. It’s very bizarre, even for him, that he would be out having some kinky ass sex and come straight to my place after. To be fair, it’s not the first time I’ve seen him with hickeys, but it’s the first time he’s gone out of his way to see me when they’re fresh. I try to minimize the staring this time, although the bruises look stunning against the pale skin on his throat. It’s a fairly pretty picture, a thought which surprises me.

“You know what I meant, asshole. Are you okay? Why are you here? It’s almost 2 in the morning.” I say, although I’m sure he’s aware of what time it is. He barely shrugs, like it takes too much energy for him to commit fully.

“Too tired to head back to my place.”

“You look like you’re about to pass the fuck out, buddy.”

“I’m fine, Ryan, don’t worry about me. I just want to crash here if that’s okay.”

“Obviously that’s fine, but what the hell happened to you?” I’m almost regretting the question as he glances at me with one eyebrow slightly raised.

“You want a play-by-play?”

“ _No_ , obviously not, but something led you to my apartment in the middle of the night looking like you barely made it out of a fight club, and I want to know how concerned I should be and if you were followed. Do I need to move apartments, maybe burn my fingertips off?” I try to sound teasing, lighten this weird air in the room, but again, it is the asscrack of morning so I’m not at my best.

“Okay, fair enough, I guess. I was at a bar, and had probably too much to drink, and some guy got a little too mouthy with me.” He gestures to the marks on his neck and shoulder, which his half-open button-down exposes. The gesture also reveals his wrists as well, which have matching marks. Weird places for hickeys, but who am I to say. “So, I left, and here I am.”

“Too mouthy as in-” I begin, feeling nauseous at the idea of my friend being assaulted.

“Not that bad.” He responds hastily, “well, I didn’t like it, but I pushed him off before it went too far. But not fun.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Ryan. I appreciate the concern but really I just needed to crash for a few hours and your place was closer than mine.”

He looks like he’s on the verge of sleep, although he looks incredibly uncomfortable in high waisted slacks and a half-unbuttoned dress shirt. The ensemble is really quite striking if I’m being honest, but I shouldn’t be surprised that Shane would look even better dressed up for a night out than he is in the office. I try to focus back on the matter at hand.

“I’m worried about you, Shane. The hickeys at work the other day, like if that’s what you’re into, whatever, but now this-”

“I make bad decisions when I’m drinking sometimes.” He mumbles, and that does not ease my worry.

“You’re not drunk though,” I say, sitting next to him on the couch and looking at him like I know what constitutes a drunk man. I squint. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really, I don’t really get drunk. I just had too much and now I feel like shit.” Shane looks tired and frustrated, although I’m not sure of how much that frustration is directed at me. “Can this intervention wait for another time? I’m so tired.” He says softly, scooting across the couch slowly and snuggling his way against my side.

After what happened in London, the cuddling is less of a shock, but still not something I’m necessarily used to. Especially after being single for quite some time now, the physical contact is a lot more than I’m used to receiving.

He curls right up against me, pressing his cheek against my shoulder and wrapping an arm around my waist. I try to hug him back as best I can from this strange angle.

“You need to eat something, dude, you look awful. And some water.” It’s a weak attempt, but it seems to work as Shane sighs.

“Fine, I’ll have a sandwich.”

“…you’re gonna have to let me go make you one.” I tell him, patting his back. He makes a soft sound, a noise I can’t say I’ve heard anyone else make, sounding closer to a cat noise, if I had to place it.

“Fine.” He says, sitting up long enough for me to stand and then flopping back down where I had been sitting.

While he snoozes, I hurry to make a peanut butter sandwich, grab a glass of water and a couple ice cubes wrapped up in a towel.

“Alright, Big Guy, you’re gonna have to work with me here.” I announce my presence and set the items down on the coffee table so I can rearrange Shane’s limbs. He’s laying mostly on his stomach, face buried in his elbows.

He graciously shifts his feet off the end of the couch, so I sit there. I make a startled _mffph_ noise when he puts his feet back up and into my lap.

“I’m too tired, Ry.” He protests into the crook of his arm. I sigh, letting my hand rest on his bare ankles.

“You’re under my roof now, you have to do what I say.” I try, grabbing the water off the table. Start slow, right?

“ _Fine.”_

“C’mon, Big Guy. Drink up.” I say, handing it to him and watching him down half of it. “There you go. Now the sandwich.” I push, passing the plate to him. He doesn’t take it, merely grabbing the bread off the dish and taking a bite.

“What’s that for?” He gestures to the dripping dishrag sitting on the table. I grab it.

“This is ice for those bruises. We have filming coming up and unless you plan on wearing a turtleneck in this weather, you’ll probably want to take measures to get those cleared up quick.” I explain. He rolls over onto his back, and I place the damp bundle against his neck and chest, where the worst of the marks are. He hisses at the cold.

“Fuck, that’s cold.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I say, my hands back to his ankles in my lap. “Do you shave your legs?” I ask absently, stroking one finger up where the pantleg covers, finding it smooth.

“Wax.” He replies through a bite of peanut butter.

“Gross.” I reply automatically, and his brows shoot up, feet moving away from my hands slightly.

“What?” He whispers. I frown.

“That’s gross, finish chewing before you talk, I don’t wanna see your half-chewed bread mush.”

“ _Oh,_ yeah, gross. Sorry.” His body relaxes back against me, and I catch up.

“You thought- oh my god, Shane, I don’t care if you wax your legs. It feels nice.” I tell him, settling my hand fully on his ankle and squeezing.

“ _Nice?”_ He asks, reminding me of our conversation over lunch on that shoot a while back. I roll my eyes.

“It’s cute, Shane.” I tell him, seeing as he remembers that conversation too, and a little grin comes onto his face. I roll my eyes but smile back.

“You think I’m cute, Bergara?” He teases, and I give a little smack to his foot.

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Is that why you’re always watching me so closely? You have a crush on me?” He grins widely now, and I roll my eyes. I guess now is a good time to come clean about this whole thing.

“You wish. No, I, well, I feel dumb about it now because you’re clearly just a human person who makes poor life decisions sometimes.” I begin, gesturing vaguely to his pouty form sprawled on my couch at 2 in the morning.

“Rude.” He responds instinctively, then looks back at me. “Wait, human person? What did you think I was?”

“Well, I had my money on vampire.” I admit, a small smile on my face. I watch as confusion filters through his expression until it settles back into humor. He laughs, just as I thought he would.

“You thought I was a vampire, Ryan? Seriously? Have you been watching Twilight again?” He taunts, and I take the ribbing, glad he’s not mad at me.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. You’re just very weird and very pale, okay?” I defend myself, soothing any sting of the words by rubbing up and down his leg where it lays on my thigh.

“Okay, your guess was vampire, what did the rest think?” He asks, and before I can protest, “I know at least Curly and Zach are involved in this. Curly pitched _Pero Like_ before that conversation, I checked.”

“Yikes, maybe you do have a detective brain.” I say, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. “Well, yeah, it was Devon first, then Curly. Curly got Zach, and Sara came to me.”

“Sara was in on this? She thinks the supernatural is bullshit!” He looks surprised. I shrug.

“She does, her guess was that you’re running from the law.”

“And working at a media company where I’ve become a low-level celebrity? Come on, Sara, you’re better than this.” He sputters.

“I told her Buzzfeed runs background checks, but she wanted none of it.” I agree. “Anyway, Curly thought werewolf.”

“Again, with the Twilight.” Shane looks disappointed in our coworker and friend. “Did he have a reason beyond Curly logic?”

“He did not.”

“Figures. What about Devon and Zach?” 

“Devon was the first person I mentioned it to, you were just being exceptionally weird on set.” I preemptively defend myself.

“Ryan, I’m like that to make a good video, half the shit I say is just for fun.”

“Well, I’ve kind of gotten used to it now, but back then I didn’t know you that well.”

“Okay, sure. So, she also thought I was a vampire, some kind of ancient being?”

“No, well, yeah, actually, ancient being. She was pushing for demon.”

“Demon! Seriously? She had to have just read the comments and gone with the first thing she saw. No originality. Really, I’m shocked and disappointed.”

“She mentioned you flinched when you saw someone in the office wearing a crucifix.”

“Did I? It’s not because I’m a demon, I just don’t like religion.” He shrugs, finishing off his sandwich. “Wait, is that why, with the salt?”

“Yeah, yeah. She was trying to test if salt would like, burn you or whatever.”

“Okay, but if I was a demon and salt did injure me, that’s pretty rude of her! I mean, I’m just minding my own demon business not hurting her, why would she attack me like that?” He protests. I laugh.

“I don’t think she thought it through all the way. Speaking of which, I uh, I spiked your coffee with holy water once.” I admit. Shane laughs loudly.

“Holy water? Why? You didn’t think I was a demon.”

“No, but holy water also works on vampires.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He frowns.

“How would you know? As previously established, you’re a human person.” I point out.

“Why would you think it does? What lore says holy water works on vampires? For the record, I’m not so sure it works on demons either.” He says, and I shake my head.

“Whatever, dude. You’re not going to believe Zach’s guess.”

“Oh no, please tell me.”

“Leprechaun.”

“What the fuck?” He sits up on his elbows, looking downright baffled. “Have you seen me? Aren’t leprechauns like two feet tall?”

“Thank you! I kept telling him that. He was sure you’re Irish and because you dress fancy all the time, you must be an Irish fairy or something.”

“I’m Polish, goddammit!”

“That’s what I told him!” I sputter, throwing my hands up. “He just ignored everything I said.”

“Fuck Zach.” He says, sinking back down against the cushions, tirade over. I can see him getting tired again, winding down finally.

“Wanna go to sleep?” I offer, passing him back the glass of water to finish, which he does.

“Yeah, as fun as this is, I think I might die if I don’t sleep soon.”

“Take my bed, there’s no way you’ll fit on this couch and be able to walk in the morning.” I tell him, yawning. Shane shakes his head.

“No way in hell am I waking you up, making you feed me and hang out with me, AND kicking you out to the couch all in one night. We can share, it’ll be like an investigation except this time I’ll actually sleep because not even you can find a ghost in this building.” He says, swinging his feet off my lap and sitting up. I grin.

“Yeah, okay. But ditch the fancy clothes, I’ll get you a tshirt or something. Think you can sleep without your fancyass pajamas?” I tease, getting up to lead him into my room. He laughs.

“I’d rather sleep naked than wear some Lakers tshirt.” He retorts, and I shake my head with a smile.

“I have a minimum clothing rule when it comes to sleepovers with my coworkers.”

“Is this a regular occurrence for you, then?”

“Not in the slightest. I’m sure I have a silk tshirt and some cotton booty shorts you can borrow.” I laugh, opening a drawer full of workout and loungewear, trying to find the least offensive one. I eventually pull out a light shirt that’s a bit long on me that’s free of any branding.

“No booty shorts?” Shane prods when I throw it at him. I roll my eyes.

“You think I own booty shorts?”

“I do.” He says, as if that means every self-respecting man should own such variety as he owns.

“Yeah, well you also own multiple pairs of slacks, so I’m failing on many fashion fronts in your book, I’m sure.” I say, getting into bed for the second time tonight.

“You have no idea, Bergara.” He says, carefully hanging his shirt and slacks over the chair by the closet.

“Whatever, just get in bed and go to sleep.” I say, finding myself easily drifting back off as if I’d never woken up. I feel the bed shift as Shane gets in, then a soft voice.

“Goodnight, babe.” He says, and I smile into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in the last chapter's notes, I had much of this one written already, but through a complicated series of events, the entire thing got erased and I wasn't able to retrieve it, so I rewrote the whole thing completely differently. And tbh, I think I like this version better, even if it is twice as long. Thank you for reading! I would love if you left me a comment with any thoughts you had while reading:)


	6. hell is hot and so am i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon!Shane is back !?!

Everything was going great, filming was running smoothly, Shane was looking better rested and slightly less pale, and we seemed to be on the same page now more than ever.

So of course, it all went to shit shortly after.

I was in the breakroom, chatting idly in a group of six of our coworkers when Devon came in and interrupted politely.

“Ryan, can I talk to you for one second?” Devon asked, gripping my arm with a strength that betrayed her casual tone. I nod, following her out of the break room.

“What’s up, are you okay?” I ask automatically once we’re out of earshot of our coworkers. She pokes around on her phone.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just- have you seen Shane recently?” She asks, finally looking up at me. I shrug.

“I saw him at lunch, he said he was leaving early for a dentist appointment. Why?”

“That’s what he told me, too. But check the Unsolved team slack.” She says, and before I can pull my phone out, she shows me hers, where a video is pulled up.

It’s Shane, in what must be his apartment. I’ve never been there, but mostly because he has a cat and I’m allergic. From his kitchen, he lifts the camera, face in profile and looking at something off camera, speaking. I turn up the volume and start the video over.

_“Hey guys, I just thought of a great location shoot for True Crime – Tombstone! We can drive out there to film and do some dumb costumes, so visually it would be a very interesting ep. Ryan can quote Tombstone, we can get some fun souvenirs, stuff like that. Anyway, I’m going to the dentist now, I’ll talk to you all later.”_

“Okay, what about it? He sends videos sometimes.” I shrug. Shane hates typing, always complaining about the struggles of big hands. Anytime he has a long message, he sends a video. Nothing weird there.

“No, watch it again, look at his face.”

I humor her, replaying the video. Shane doesn’t really look at the camera the whole time, busy with what looks like something food related, but when he goes to end the recording, his eyes are visible.

And blacked out.

I nearly drop the phone in surprise.

“Uhhh… What the fuck?”

“Right? I just noticed, and it’s only for like three frames. I took a screenshot. It’s so quick that I had to screen record it and play it back slower. But his eyes are definitely black.”

I’m speechless. Shane and I had just talked this through, and he seemed like he was telling the truth.

Shane is a real, human person, right?

“Maybe they’re just those contacts, you know? The ones you can get for costumes and stuff?” I suggest, although it’s weak even to my ears.

“Why would he do that? And send this to the whole team? It doesn’t make sense, Ryan.” She reasons, and I have to agree. If he’d just wanted to mess with me, he could’ve sent the video just to me, or worn the contacts sometime outside of work when we hung out.

“I don’t know, Dev. I don’t know.” I scrub a hand over my face, feeling all the frustration from before coming back. Sure, there’s nothing that conclusively says Shane is not a human person, but there’s just a little too much that doesn’t make sense.

Would he lie to me? Did he lie to me? Why did he lie to me?

xXx

“Shane, can you uh, can you look at something for me?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as I swipe sweaty palms on my pants.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Shane ambles over, the picture of calm. I hold up my phone to his face where the screenshot of his blacked out eyes shines in the dim light of the evening. Shane frowns, then looks at me, like he's wondering what I'm trying to show him.

“Aren’t you going to explain it? Tell me it’s blurry, maybe too dark to see? You used a face filter? Contact lenses?” I ask, the phone shaking in my hand. Shane shrugs.

“Ryan, no matter what I tell you, you’re going to see what you want to see. If this makes you think I’m a demon after everything, I can’t change your mind.” He says blandly.

“Unbelievable! Are you actually guilting me into making me think you’re a human person?” I sputter. Now, Shane cracks a smile.

“Is it working?”

“Fuck you.” I laugh, incredulous. “Plus, you've never explicitly told me that you’re not a demon.” I point out. He shrugs again.

“Gotta keep the spark alive, right?” He jokes, knocking his hip into my side.

“That’s still not an answer!” I protest, just as TJ comes out of the house to tell us we’re ready to start filming inside.

“Saved by the bell.” Shane smirks, winking at me before walking towards where we’ll start filming. I have to jog to catch up.

xXx

"Please turn it off, I can hardly hear myself losing the will to live." Shane groans.

"Five minutes, then we can be done with it, I promise." I tell Shane, holding the spirit box possessively away from him.

"I fucking hate that thing." Shane grumbles, turning away from me to pan his handheld around the room.

“Man, if this place is possessed by a fucking demon, dude, I… Fuck, why do I do these things.” I say absently as I shine the flashlight around the dusty room. I hear Shane snort softly behind me.

“For the record, you’re the one that picks all of our locations.” Shane points out. “And if you really think I’m a demon, you see me pretty much every day and it doesn’t seem to freak you out this much.”

“But you’re like… not as evil, right? Hypothetically, if you were a demon, you wouldn’t kill me. Would you?” I ask, turning to look at my friend for confirmation with a bit more panic than what a hypothetical question demands.

“Time will tell, won’t it.” He says, mysterious and eyes comically rounding as he speaks. My pulse spikes as I look into his eyes, not finding the joke I'm looking for in them.

"Wait, you would kill me? Hold up, does this mean you’re admitting to being a demon?" I ask, terrified he would say yes, but even more terrified he would say no.

Shane sighed, letting the silence hang for a second too long. _fuck fuck fuck_ -

"Would it make you feel better or worse if I'm a demon?" He finally asks. I blow out a long breath.

"Better, I think, right? I'd feel safer knowing you could protect us." I say, realizing the words are true as they leave my mouth.

"Fine, then yes. You caught me, Ry, I'm a demon." He does little jazz hands, and despite my terror, a nervous giggle slips out of me at the comical admission.

"For real, dude? You're not just messing with me?"

"You saw the video, you really think I'd buy those black contacts just to mess with you and Devon?" He is being frustratingly nonchalant about the whole thing and it makes me want to scream.

"That wouldn't make any sense," I reason, watching his face closely. "Do you have like, a True Form or whatever that you can show me?"

"Ryan, do you really want to be even more freaked out than you already are? I'm sure there's a better time and place for this." He points out. I feel myself sigh in relief. Despite my curiosity, I truly don't think I could handle seeing whatever my best friend really looks like.

"Yeah, okay."

“You’d better cut this footage out of the episode, though.”

I feel my panic rise up again.

“Would you… get in trouble, if the internet found out you’re a demon?”

“Get in trouble? You mean, will Satan come kick my ass? Probably not.” He says, a bit of a laugh following it. “Can you imagine what it would be like to get footage of that?”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up about the demons, dude, you’re gonna summon them.” I shush him, focusing back on our hunt.

“That’s not how summoning works, Ryan, I would think you of all people would know that. Saying ‘Satan’ in a mirror three times won’t bring him topside.”

“How do you know?” I ask, then realize. I spin around to look at my friend in the face. “Do you _know Satan?_ ”

“Not carnally.”

What the fuck-

I let that go, swearing to ask him every question I have later, when we aren’t in a haunted/possessed location. 

Then again, apparently _any_ location that I'm with him is haunted/possessed.

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into.

“Dude, stop messing around, we can’t use any of this footage, Teej is gonna kill us.” I finally respond, tabling _that_ panic for now and replacing it with the panic of the present.

"Bold of you to assume that he can kill me."

xXx

Fortunately for me and my blood pressure, the actual episode filming went pretty well, a disappointing but relieving number of weird bumps in the night. Finally, we said goodnight to the crew and settled in for the night, just Shane and me.

I felt surprisingly comfortable with a _literal demon from hell_ as my companion. Despite the circumstances, it's still _Shane_ , he's still my best friend. He hasn't tried to kill me or eat my soul (yet), so in theory, I have nothing to fear from him.

My crippling anxiety started to fade away, and now I'm left in clothes that are slightly too damp from sweat cooling on my body. I shiver where I lay on the floor.

"Goodnight, Shane." I mumble through clacking teeth. I hear his grunt in response and burrow deeper into my sleeping bag.

I stay like that for what feels like an hour, but is probably only ten minutes.

“Dude, let me sleep next to you, I’m fucking freezing.” I say, ignoring Shane’s annoyed grumble at being woken up again. He shifts around a bit before responding.

“I don’t have a lot of spare body heat, go get a sweater from my backpack.” He says, voice sounding irritated but blinking his eyes open anyway.

I do, muttering about _demons_ and _from hell_ , the hottest place _ever_ that he does seem to hear, judging by his small chuckle.

I find his maroon sweater and pull it on over my head, heading back over to our sleeping bags. The sleeves cover my entire hands and it falls to mid-thigh on me. I instantly feel warmer, and that relaxes me.

“Okay, don’t laugh, because it definitely doesn’t fit…” I begin, gesturing with the floppy ends of Shane’s sweater sleeves. Even with his sleepy eyes, I can see a delighted expression cross his face, and his lips twitch up into a grin.

“You look good.” He says, turning to face me fully and sitting up on his elbows, more awake now. I sit down again and tuck my legs inside the bag, nothing but the thin padding of my sleeping bag between the grimy floor and my ass.

“Uh- thanks.”

"Warmer?" He asks, his eyes roaming the way the sweater covers my whole lap and eyeing my fingers poking out from the ends of the sleeves.

I nod slightly, moving my hand up to scratch at the back of my neck. Why is he staring so much?

"Good."

I start to feel weirdly anxious, which is not helped by the fact that now, _now_ Shane slides his sleeping bag closer so that the two are almost on top of each other. He settles back down, looking comfortable on the concrete floor and looking at me with an expression I haven't seen on him before. After a second of just watching each other, he pulls me down beside him, curling his body around me, his legs on top and separated only by several layers of material, a firm weight against mine. He shifts me slightly so that his face is pressed into the now warm skin of my neck. He's almost spooning me, and I'm torn between relaxing fully into the feeling and being even more freaked out that I don't know what this means.

I settle on a mixture of both, snuggling against him while my mind goes insane trying to do the math to figure out if this is a best-friends-who-cuddle thing or a sex thing or a romantic thing.

I'm interrupted by Shane inhaling behind me.

“Mmm, you smell like me.” Shane growls – growls – against my neck, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

Apparently, Shane is possessive, and it’s really doing it for me in a way I’d never felt before. That growl was the single hottest sound I’ve ever heard in my life, and it makes me want to do whatever it takes to make him do it again.

The high likelihood that he is actually a demon runs through my mind briefly.

I guess a possessive demon makes sense, right?

Plus, it's so nice to be held like this in a murder-demon-haunted house, I can't find it in me to make him stop.

Fuck, this isn’t good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm just posting multiple times per week. Thanks for your comments on the last chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> P.s., what do /you/ think Shane is? Let me know in the comments... you know, for science...


	7. Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's admission sets everything back to square one

We’ve been to a lot of truly horrible, awful places. But none so completely struck true, immediate fear into me the way the Vulture Mine Bordello Bat Incident did.

Even Shane looked disturbed, running out of the building behind me into the open air, where the bats kept more to themselves. I turned to look at my friend in horror.

“What the fuck.” I whispered, unable to even blink.

“That was terrible.”

“Yeah.” I said, almost feeling numb. The creepy crawly feeling all over my skin was awful, and I wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and go to sleep so I can never think of this again.

“Hey Teej?” Shane called, still looking at my face. “We’ll wrap up quickly, yeah? Let’s get out of here as soon as we can.”

“You got it.” I hear TJ say, and the numbness carried me through the rest of the shoot.

Shane offered to drive, seeing as I would immediately crash, and I’m grateful.

It wasn’t until we were in the car, Shane and I in one and the crew in the other, that I felt the stiffness drain out of me.

“Hey, you doing okay, buddy?” He asked me. I shrugged.

“Not really. I just want to get back to the hotel and shower and go to bed.” I repeat my earlier thought.

“We’ll be there soon, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks. Shane hears the wobble in my voice and looks over again.

"No, no, no, baby, please don't cry." He puts his hand over mine where it sits on my leg, caressing my skin with his thumb. “The bats are gone, Ry, we’re heading home. Take a deep breath for me.” He instructs. I comply, swiping the tears from my face hastily.

“I’m sorry, I-” I begin, but Shane gives my hand a squeeze.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? I’ll take care of you, babe.” He says. “Your hands are so much smaller than mine.” He says with a smile, running his fingers over the back of mine. I snort automatically.

“My hands aren’t small, yours are insanely large just like the rest of you.”

“I didn’t say they were small. Just look.” He says, holding his hand palm up next to mine. I place mine palm down on top of his so we can see the size difference.

“Is this just a ploy to hold my hand?” I tease, but I’m surprised when he laces his fingers between mine and sets our joined hands down on my lap.

“No, absolutely not.” He replies.

We drive in silence for a bit, then the radio station starts playing one of the few songs I’ve heard Shane listen to that I actually recognize, All of Me, by John Legend. Sure enough, he starts goofily belting out the lyrics, looking over at me dramatically and using our combined fist as a mic. It’s comical, and I’m laughing. By the time the song is over, Shane is grinning at me, I’m grinning back, and I’ve been broken out of the weird bat-spell.

Huh. Maybe this was just what he planned.

* * *

We arrived at the airport early the next day.

I had recovered from the incident, and Shane looked like he just rolled out of bed this morning, which he did. For once, he was wearing repeat clothes on this trip, the same thing he’d worn on the way in: chinos and a ‘casual’ button down.

After making it to our gate with time to spare, Shane and I decided to walk around a bit to find food. I also thought now would be a good time to finally talk about the whole demon thing.

“So, you’re pretty chill for a demon.” I begin, testing the waters. Shane catches my sideways glance, eyebrows up.

“I’d venture to guess you have most of your demon information wrong.”

“Enlighten me, then. Does holy water work on you? How old are you? What do you actually look like? Do you have powers?”

“Okay, one at a time. You already know holy water does nothing because you made me drink it once and I’m still here.” Shane begins, giving me a scowl. “Which by the way, if you’d asked me first, I would’ve told you that. I prefer you don’t test for my kryptonite by feeding it to me. I could’ve died.” 

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t think that through.”

“No, you didn’t. Anyway, I look like this, what you see is what you get. This is me, baby!” He stretches his arms out wide with a smile. I grin back.

“Don’t call me baby, and can you show me the eyes?” I ask. He shrugs.

“Not here. What else did you ask?”

“How old are you? Or I guess, how old is this, uh, vessel? Are you possessing someone?”

“I am not. I grew this body myself.” He assures me, adding, “And I’m not that old, all things considered, but I’m older than you.”

“Powers?” I prompt, interested that maybe he can do something cool. Shane sighs, giving a weird little quirk of his head. I don’t know what to think about that.

“Let’s get some coffee.”

What?

I pause, just looking at him walking, thinking what he might mean. I have to jog a little to catch up.

Once we’re acquired some breakfast and are sitting in a fairly empty café, I look pointedly at Shane.

“Yes?” He asks, taking a drink.

“Powers?” I repeat, watching him carefully for another weird reaction. Shane rests his chin on one hand, fingers covering his mouth. He’s thinking about something, and I wait him out.

“Ryan,” He stops. Waits some more. “Fuck, you’re gonna hate this.” He mutters to himself, and my eyebrows twitch, but I keep my expression as neutral as I can.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“Ry, I lied.” He says, but then stops, as if that’s all I need to know. I frown.

“About what?”

“I’m not a demon.”

“Sounds like something a demon would say,” I tease, but it comes out sounding more serious than I intended. Shane huffs once, grabbing my hand from the tabletop.

“I’m not a demon. I just said I was so you wouldn’t be so scared about the demon house. I’m sorry, Ry.”

He looks so earnest, so upset, I believe he’s telling the truth. I still have to ask.

“So holy water doesn’t work on you because you’re not a demon.”

He nods.

“And salt wouldn’t work either?”

Shane shrugs.

“Have you seen my diet?”

Well, fuck, back to square one.

“Prove you’re not a demon. What about the eyes?”

“Contacts. Look.” He says, opening his phone, where he pulls up his email and finds the order confirmation for full-eye black contacts. I feel the breath whoosh out of me.

“Okay, so you’re not a demon.” I shrug. I get that he was doing this for me, but I still feel betrayed and upset that he lied. And then kept the lie going for so long. “Shane, it’s been weeks since you told me.”

“I know, and I was going to tell you. I really was, I swear. I just… you were so much braver on location, it seemed like it helped, and I-” He sighs, dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders lifted, then dropped.

“Okay.” I say, finishing my scone. “We should get back to the gate.”

We got up silently, tossed our trash and walked back to join the crew at the gate. Devon made eye contact with me, but I looked away.

Shane sat by Mark, and I stood standing, thinking through everything Shane had told me. Every now and then, I’d glance over at him to see him looking at me, a sad, pleading expression on his face.

We boarded the plane, Shane right behind me as we went to our assigned seats. We reached the row, but I kept walking. I heard Shane’s soft ‘Ryan-’ as I approached a middle-aged woman a few rows back.

“Excuse me, would you mind switching seats with me? I’ve got a window seat but I wanted to try to sleep.” I told her, showing her my ticket. She smiled.

“Of course, I love window seats.” She said, standing up and swapping places with me.

Shane looked upset when I looked up, standing in the aisle waiting for the woman to take the seat beside him. His already droopy eyes were even sadder than normal, and I couldn’t stand to look at his face like this, so I pulled headphones on and closed my eyes.

The flight was short, and I never did sleep, just taking the silence to think through everything again.

Shane had lied to me, sure. But he did it to give me a little courage, make me feel like I had some backup even just for a few episodes. The episodes between the demon house and Vulture Mine did have a fun quality to them that others were missing simply because I was always so scared.

By the time we landed, I’d gotten over the lie, deciding to tell Shane everything was okay as we waited for our ride in the airport.

I waited for the doors to open before getting up, grabbing my bag to catch up with Shane a few rows ahead of me, but he was faster. In one fluid motion, he was out of his seat and moving down the aisle, maneuvering around people until he reached the front and left the plane.

Even by shoving my way through everyone and moving as fast as I could, I had already lost Shane by the time I got off. I stalled by the gate for the crew to meet me. Steven was picking all of us up to take us home, which Shane knew. He was probably looking for a bathroom and then would meet up with us later to wait for Steven.

“Hey Ryan, you ready?” TJ asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. Devon and Mark were with him, looking drowsy and rumpled. I nodded.

“Let me just text Shane where we’re meeting Steven.” I said, walking with them and trying to text without running into people. TJ looked at me.

“He’s not riding with us, didn’t he tell you?” He asks. I shake my head. “Yeah, he said his aunt wants to get lunch with him so she’s picking him up from here.”

What the fuck?

“Shane doesn’t have family in California.” I say, sounding defensive. TJ just shrugs.

“That’s what he told me. Do you know another reason why he wouldn’t want to ride with us?” He asks, giving me what the Unsolved team affectionately refers to as his ‘Dad look,’ which makes you want to confess everything. I resist, shrugging and pulling my headphones back over my ears.

* * *

As it turns out, weekends without Shane are boring as hell.

It's not like we spend every weekend together, but I'll usually get a text here and there from him, or we'll watch a movie together.

We’d taken Friday afternoon off after getting back from the airport, and Saturday morning I woke up feeling like death. It took five eggs, a full workout and a few episodes into Sherlock before I was feeling more like myself, albeit still pretty bored and lonely. I checked my phone, finding my notification center empty. 

Opening up Instagram, I was surprised to find Shane’s face on the top of my feed. I glanced at the user who posted it, saw it was the Unsolved page, and figured Katie had posted it as a teaser for this week's episode. 

The picture was from filming on our set, Shane had made some bad joke, and I’d gone along with the bit, like always. It wasn't a good bit, didn’t even make it into the episode, but we were enjoying ourselves. Eventually, Katie had cut it off, putting us back on track.

I smiled, double tapping the picture and scrolling down.

Shane was on my mind a lot these days, especially now that he’s not with me. I looked at my couch, remembering what it was like to have him sprawled out, feet on my lap and looking back at me with that soft expression on his face.

When I think about it, that night was pretty romantic. Sure, it started off weird, but that’s just us. It ended up with us in bed together, even if we just went to sleep.

The morning after, it was like waking up on location with him – no awkwardness you might expect, both of us groggy and relaxed. I woke up first, nudging him where he was sprawled out half hanging off my bed. He rolled over, smiling softly at me, thanking me for taking care of him the night before.

I made us eggs for breakfast while he buttered some bread. We’d grown so accustomed to each other’s presence, we moved around each other seamlessly in the kitchen.

After he’d left, my apartment had felt far too empty with only me in it.

I opened up my messages, getting as far as typing ‘hey, wanna hang out? I miss-’ into my conversation with Shane before erasing everything and just staring at the screen. 

The last thing we'd texted about had been some dumb meme he’d sent me, a meaningless conversation that I’d taken for granted.

Maybe it’s time for me to start dating again. It had been awhile since my last relationship, and apparently, I’m so lonely that I’ve started creating a romance between me and my best friend. Hell, I’m not even into guys, so that should’ve been the first sign. I remember thinking several things about Shane's appearance that night.

With that in mind, I download Tinder again, logging in and finding several unread messages from before my last relationship. I deleted all of them, beginning to swipe through the endless pretty faces, barely noticing any of them as I swiped left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended covering a lot more ground in this chapter, but it ended up being super long so I broke it into two... I've been a little stuck on this section of the story, but a lot of the rest is written and edited, just needs to be fully realized as a full story. 
> 
> Okayyy, what are we thinking about Shane's heritage now? Let me know what your best guess is!


	8. Grindr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has A Realisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support on this story! 
> 
> I guess I update every couple of days now, I've been writing like crazy to get through those ~quarantine blues~
> 
> Also, please note the rating change!

Ryan: are you avoiding me?

I shoot off the text before I can think too much about it. I'd barely seen Shane at work all week, and the man's desk is next to mine.

Besides, I'm tipsy at home on a Thursday, and my best friend is being a dick.

I see the three dots come up after a minute or so. I wait him out.

Shane: no, just been busy this week.

Ryan: okay, bud, whatever you say

Shane: sorry that I lied.

Shane: you know, the demon thing

I snort, as if I didn't know what he meant when he said he lied.

Ryan: thanks for clarifying

Shane: for the record, that's the only thing I lied about, everything else I said is true

Ryan: I don't remember what else you said

Ryan: wait, is that a clue?

Shane: do you still actually believe I'm not a human?

Ryan: you're being very shady, Shane.

Shane: sorry

Ryan: so, are you?

Shane: am I what

Ryan: a human person?

Shane: I can't believe this is a question you actually feel the need to ask

Shane: what have I done that screams 'supernatural'

Ryan: all your drinks are blood red

Shane: I like cranberry, sue me

Ryan: you're insanely pale for a guy living in LA

Shane: that's just hurtful, Ryan.

Ryan: and you won't give me a straight answer to my question

I wait eagerly to read his response. Maybe he'll finally just let it go, tell me he's just a human and we can laugh about this later.

The dots come up and down, like he keeps changing his mind about what he wants to say. It's been two minutes before he sends anything back.

Shane: make me

I truly don't know what to say to that, so I send him a shrug emoji. The text changes to 'read,' but he doesn't say anything back right away.

While I wait for his response, I drift off.

* * *

_The bed I’m in feels off, like it’s someone else’s. It’s too short, too lumpy. My feet hang slightly over the edge. The room smells old. I’m on location._

_Beside me, a warm weight shifts, and a big hand rests against the small of my back. I roll over, but it’s too dark to see anything around me. The hand shifts lower, covering my hardening cock – why am I naked – and giving it a squeeze. The touch is too soft to be any relief, and I whine in protest._

_There’s a soft laugh, barely more than a breath, next to my ear, then soft lips and a hot tongue on the shell of my ear. Teeth nip at my earlobe and then the tongue soothes the pain. A thumb strokes up and down my shaft, pausing at the tip to catch the pre-cum dripping there.  
_

_I moan some more, thrusting against the hand. The mouth bites and licks at my neck, breathing heavily the whole time._

_The hand slips down my shaft to cup my balls, softly massaging them as I bite my lip and reach down to grab my own cock. A second hand intercepts the motion, slapping my wrist away. I settle for a handful of the sheets, palm sweating against them._

_The hand on my cock leaves, then reappears against my mouth. I lick it thoroughly - it's a broad palm, and it returns to slide up and down, jerking me off. It's a relief._

_I’m getting close, feeling my body tense up at my impending orgasm. Between the touch on my cock and the lips against my ear, the thrill of being on location and the secretive feeling between me and my bedmate, my cock twitches. I can tell by the huff of breath and the squeeze of the hand that it was a noticeable twitch._

_I’m so close, almost there, when I hear the voice in my ear, lips still so close they brush my skin with each word. A shiver runs up my spine.  
_

_“Come for me, Ry.” He says, the familiar voice breaking me out of the haze._

I sit up on my empty bed, shaking, covered in sweat and unbearably hard – so hard that it’s painful.

“ _Fuck_.” I tell my silent room.

* * *

“It doesn’t really mean anything, right? Like, I woke up as soon as I knew it was a guy – that it was _him,”_ I explain, almost frantically to my reflection. My eyes are wide, unblinking and bloodshot.

I've already been up for several hours, my head is pounding from a combination of shame, confusion and hangover, and I've never wanted to die more than I do right now.

I don’t even try putting contacts in, shoving glasses on my face and heading out the door.

Even in the privacy of my own shower, I’d refused to finish myself off, turning the knob all the way cold anytime a stray thought passed through my head. I don’t trust myself to not make this worse.

Shane wasn’t in yet when I got to work, which was good – very good, since I still had time to process this and decide how to act like a normal person about it.

Friends have wet dreams about each other all the time, right?

It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just lonely and horny. That’s it.

* * *

Except it isn’t, and fuck every thought I’d had since waking up at 3am, because when Shane did arrive, he was wearing those high waisted slacks from that night at my apartment that make his legs look miles long, and a white button down with the sleeves rolled up and several open buttons at the collar. 

_Now,_ in the light of day, after knowing exactly how that fabric feels against my hands, I look at the slacks in a different way.

My dick has never reacted faster.

Shane greeted me with an angelic smile, as if he could tell how this is making me feel. I smiled back.

Despite everything, I'm glad that he's back. Maybe last night's conversation was all it took to convince him that we're okay.

“I have a location idea.” He begins, and I try to pull my head out of the gutter long enough to form a coherent response.

* * *

The entire day was varying forms of that.

Shane was infuriatingly attractive, and as if he could read my mind, every little gesture and facial expression only made it even worse. I can’t take my eyes off him long enough for even one (1) brain cell to function.

“Hey, Ry-” Shane began, and it took all of my willpower to not sigh at the nickname, imagining it spoken in the hushed whisper from my dream. I look over at him. “Can you send me the stills from Denver?” He asks, the little smile on his lips just enough to make me forget what words are. I nod, vaguely, turning back to my computer.

I left early for lunch, only briefly inviting Shane, but knowing it’s too early for him and he wouldn’t be ready to go.

After Chipotle, I was feeling a bit more human, albeit still just as confused, and returned to my desk.

Shane was still there, a look of concentration on his face. While he was occupied, I looked over him discreetly, noticing the smudge of black nail polish extending off his nail and onto his cuticle, the thread hanging off the cuff of his slacks and the smudge of dirt on his left shoe.

Somehow, all of these imperfections just make him so much more attractive to me.

He left for lunch soon after, nearly catching me staring again.

While he was gone, I got up, bringing my phone and laptop with me as I wandered around, looking for a free couch or an empty conference room.

I ended up working at the desk in Ghoul HQ, where it was mercifully quiet and devoid of Shane.

And if, upon arrival, I slumped against the door, palming my neglected hard-on to relieve some of the frustration, well, that’s between me and god.

Shane found me in there around 5, knocking softly before opening the door.

“There you are, are you okay?” He asks gently.

“Fine – I’m fine, just wanted to work here while I listen for EVPs.” I lie, shutting the lid of my computer in case he sits next to me and sees no video editing software open.

“Find anything compelling?” He teases, sitting down sideways on the edge of the desk. I swallow.

“Compelling for me or you?” I dodge.

He dips his head slightly in a ‘fair enough’ gesture, and I smile.

“Are you leaving?” I ask, noticing his bag on his shoulder. He laughs loudly.

“Well, just hand me my hat and tell me to get out, why dontcha.” He smirks. I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up one hand. “I am, it’s 5 o’clock. I figured you maybe lost track of time somewhere and needed a reminder.”

“Sweet of you.” I respond without thinking. He laughs again.

“I thought so. You’ve been a bit spazzy today, are you coming down with something?”

“I might be, I woke up super early today for some reason and couldn’t get back to sleep.” I admit, resting my chin on one hand. Shane reaches forward, pressing one of his cool hands to my warm face. I feel my eyes close, and blink them back open quickly, hoping he didn’t notice.

“You feel a little warm, but not feverish.” He says, leaning back, and taking his hand with him.

"Why are your hands always so cold?" I ask before I think better of it. Shane frowns, shrugging. 

"I don't know, they just are. Always have been. Guess I'm just a _cool guy_." He winks, and I groan.

“I think I just need a good night’s sleep.” I say, moving to stand up.

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Shane walks back to our desks with me, despite being ready to leave. I don’t mind.

I pack up my things and sling my bag over my shoulder, and we leave the building.

“Did you want a ride home?” I ask, unlocking my car and putting my stuff in the backseat. Shane frowns.

“I’m a bit out of your way, are you sure?” He checks. His phone is already out and I see the Uber app loading on it.

“Yeah, get in.” I say, against my better judgement. “I could use someone making sure I don’t fall asleep before I get there.”

Shane settles in the front seat, his knees against the dash and pale fingers splayed distractingly over his thighs. I try not to imagine them caressing my skin like they had in my dream.

We drive quietly, music humming in the background. _All of Me_ comes on, reminding me of the drive from Vulture Mine. I shiver a little, glad that Shane is looking out the window. He starts humming the tune, softly singing the chorus like he’s not really aware he’s doing it.

Fuck, Shane is cute.

Thinking back, I remember all of the other times I'd thought about Shane in a less-than-perfectly-heterosexual way.

That night at my apartment certainly comes to mind, as does that day at the office when his neck was covered in bruises. Apparently, this has been a long time coming, and I've finally come up out of the water to be able to see clearly again.

"Turn right at the light." Shane's soft voice interrupts my musing, and I follow his instructions to his apartment.

He pats my hand where it lays on the gear shift before getting out.

"'Night, Ry." He says, smiling at me before shutting the door and heading up the walkway.

I wait for him to get inside, then head home. I’m feeling some sort of way about the day.

Maybe I’m thrown off because of the dream. Maybe I’m not really gay, I’m just horny because I had a wet dream (with a guy – _Shane_ ) and never finished.

With that in mind, I pull up some porn on my computer and settle against the couch.

I click through a variety of videos, nothing catching my eye. I scroll down further and find something that I’m positive PornHub found buried (not that) deep in my brain: _“frat boy fucks nerd”_

Simple, to the point.

I click on it before I think too hard about it. The guy topping, although white, is built. The bottom is long and lanky. I sigh to the room.

This is research.

The video plays on, mindless of me and my existential crisis.

Two minutes and forty-eight seconds later, I sit, staring at the black screen, cum all over my hand and bare chest.

So basically, I’m screwed.

* * *

Saturday morning comes, and although I slept mercifully through the night, I wake up and have to face reality again.

So, I guess I’m gay now. All it took was a pretty set of long, pale fingers and a sarcastic smile.

If I ever tell Shane about this, he’s going to laugh so hard at me.

I can imagine his eyes getting round, then his face shifting into humor, laughing loudly. Those painted nails would scratch at the back of his neck as he finishes laughing. _"little old me?"_ He'd ask, and I would roll my eyes. _"Was it the legs or the hands?"_ He'd be insufferable about it for maybe an hour, maybe a day, then he'd let it go. Never mention it again because he's a good friend.

What am I talking about?

No. Shane is my best friend, cohost, and coworker. That’s too many statuses already, adding ‘boyfriend’ or whatever puts the other three at risk, and I can’t do that to us, to _me._

As I sit in front of a soggy bowl of cereal, I open my phone up and delete the Tinder app from my home screen. I take a deep breath and download Grindr in its place.

If I have feelings for a guy, they can be replaced by feelings for a different guy, right?

I compile pictures from my camera roll, especially the ones too sexy for Instagram.

Create a bio, set preferences, upload photos, done. I’ve officially become a gay male on the market.

* * *

By noon, I’d received three messages on Grindr, only one of which was an Unsolved fan who recognized me. I ignored that one.

The second was a dick pic, and I blocked the user. Men are animals.

The third was from someone named Nathan. I look through his photos, deciding he looks little enough like Shane (average height and build, normal sized head and probably Korean).

I message him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer! I've never used a dating app and am not fully aware of how they work, don't @ me.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments! 
> 
> Also, check out my Pinterest inspo board to see reference photos of Shane's outfits and stuff:))  
> Link: https://pin.it/4hJ0YuN


	9. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan goes out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babey!

Turns out, Nathan is nice and pretty funny, so we decide to meet over coffee on Monday morning before work. Not the most romantic, but definitely practical.

“Hey Ryan?” A smooth, confident voice says from behind me. I stand up and turn to face him, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

Sure enough, it’s Nathan. He looks just like he did in his pictures, dressed in a nice suit and making me second-guess my jeans-flannel combo. At least I'm wearing my customs, so shoe game is on point.

“Hi, yeah, nice to meet you!” I say, shaking his hand. He takes the seat across the table from me. “I just got us coffees, but the waitress should be back soon.” I tell him.

“Coffee sounds great, thank you.” He smiles, arranging his phone and keys off to the side of his menu. “Mind if I take a look at this for a second?” He asks, lifting the laminated page.

“Of course, I already decided.”

It only takes a minute or so for him to choose, and then he puts the page back down, smiling warmly at me. I mirror it, feeling less nervous than earlier.

“So, Ryan, tell me about yourself, let’s get all those awkward first-date questions out of the way.” He says, and I laugh.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with what you like to do?”

“Well, I work at Buzzfeed as a producer, and I’m a huge film nerd, so that takes up a lot of my life. I also enjoy sports, especially basketball.” I tell him.

“That’s perfect, I play lots of basketball. We should start a game sometime.” He offers, and I grin back.

“I’m so down for that.”

From there, our conversation became comfortable and even flirty. Nathan is a paralegal but working to become a lawyer. He’s smart, funny, and thoughtful, and as far as first dates go, this one is pretty fucking okay.

I’m sad to leave an hour later, but we both have offices to get to and jobs to do.

Still, I walk into Buzzfeed with a smile still on my face.

“Ooh, did someone have a good weekend?” Sara teases me as I pass her desk.

“Oh my god, Sara, stop it-” I laugh, but even the good-natured ribbing does nothing to dampen my spirits.

Shane looks surprised when he sees me.

“You look happy.” He says, and I shrug.

“I slept well.” 

It’s not until lunchtime, when Curly and Jenny invite us to lunch with them, that Shane finds out the real reason.

“Maybe my eyes deceive me, but did you perhaps get lucky, Bergara?” Curly teases, bumping against my side as we walk. Jenny laughs but looks curious. Shane has no reaction.

“I think that’s between me and god, Curly.” I say. “But there might just be someone new I’m talking to. Not a big deal.” I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. Jenny claps her hands.

“I knew it! Who is she?”

The innocent question catches me off guard. I sort of didn’t realize that technically, I’m still closeted for all intents and purposes, and I don’t feel like coming out on a Monday walking to a taco truck.

“Maybe you’ll find out if it becomes something,” I say, carefully neutral, and although Curly groans, Shane’s mouth quirks up in the slightest smile, almost unnoticeable.

* * *

In the evening, we’re packing up to shoot on location. I hear my phone buzz on the desk and grab it before anyone else can see it.

Grindr: Nathan: had a great time meeting you, feel free to shoot me a text :)

Below is a number with an LA area code. I smile, pocketing the phone.

The drive out to the home is uneventful, and we arrive a little early, just before sunset.

TJ, Matt, and Devon unpack and set up while Shane and I put mics on and arrange furniture for our intro.

I notice Shane is less chatty than usual, but it is a Monday that we’re shooting, and he was at the office already when I arrive, so he’s no doubt pretty tired. Hell, I’m nearing exhaustion myself, consoled only by the thought of sleeping in tomorrow.

The intro is fine, Shane perks up once the cameras start rolling. We bounce off each other seamlessly, and even Devon laughs once.

But as we keep shooting, Shane gets louder and wilder, a look in his eyes that throws me off. I miss cues for obvious bits, and his laugh is too loud, and TJ looks at us with a frown from where he sits with headphones on.

“Alright, let’s take five. Dev, can you help me set up the static cam in the hallway?” He finally says, and our entire crew leave us alone in the room to go set up one camera.

Well, fuck.

“Are you okay?” I turn to Shane, but he isn’t looking at me. He shrugs.

“Yeah, fine, why?”

“You’re acting like an insane person, dude, what’s wrong?” I push, leaning into where his eyes fall so that they land on my face. “Shane, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I think I’m just tired. Don’t worry about me.”

“No, I’m gonna worry because there’s clearly something wrong. Talk to me.”

“Let it go, Ryan, it’s nothing.” He insists, but his eyes are sad, sadder than normal at least.

“It’s clearly not nothing, there’s something making you act so weird that our whole crew just took off to do something one intern could handle.”

“Ryan. Let. It. Go.” Shane says, more serious than before. I take a step backward, my frown deepening.

We stare at each other, a face off. Finally, I concede, lifting my hands.

“Okay. I’ll let it go. Take a minute, calm down.” I say, grabbing my water and following the path the crew took and leaving Shane by himself.

As I approach our huddled coworkers who clearly are waiting for a big argument, I hear a grunt and a crackly thud, presumably Shane kicking his water bottle.

Weird.

* * *

I arrive at work late on Tuesday afternoon. Honestly, I should’ve just stayed home given that I’ll only be here a couple hours, but it felt weird to not be there.

Shane was at his desk, headphones around his neck, staring off into space.

“Hey.” I greet him, neutral, in case he’s still pissed about yesterday. To my surprise, he smiles at me.

“Hi.”

“You alright?”

“I am. I’m sorry about yesterday.” He says, and I wait for him to elaborate. He shrugs. “I don’t know what came over me, but it was stupid. Sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. I hope everything’s good.” I say, not knowing how else to respond. He smiles again, then lifts his headphones over his ears.

Well, that’s that, I guess.

* * *

“When did you start dressing like that?” I ask Shane, and he looks confused. To be fair, it is pretty random. “Like, fancy and shit.” I clarify.

“What do you mean, when?” He frowns. “I guess I never really jumped on the tshirt trend. Why do you ask?” 

“You wore slacks as a kid?” I push, turning in my chair to face him. He mirrors my position.

“No, but I never liked jeans. Mostly wore chino type pants.” He says. “We were in a pretty remote part of Illinois, so it’s not like people were fashionable there.”

“Still, it was the 80’s, you didn’t wear jeans?” I ask. He looks a little thoughtful.

“I don’t really remember what I wore, but as a teenager, I didn’t really dress like most 90’s kids. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Well, here goes.

“I’m uh… I started dating… someone-” I begin, and Shane frowns.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So like, they dress really well. I feel stupid because I sort of still dress like a college student. You know? I don’t dress like a successful person, I guess.” I explain, and Shane shrugs.

“Yeah, you do dress like a frat boy. Why is that a problem, why now?”

“They’re- the person I’m seeing, well, is like, a paralegal.”

“Okay, Ryan, is this person a man or a woman?” Shane asks, point-blank, surprising me enough that I just answer him.

“Man.”

“That’s new, right? You said you were straight not that long ago.” He points out. Not accusingly or anything, just factual.

“Yeah, pretty new.”

“I think I get what this is.” He says, resting his elbow on his desk.

“You do?”

“Sure. You’re having an identity crisis, and reevaluating your habits and lifestyle.”

It’s so matter of fact, so casual.

“What?”

“You fairly recently realized you might like men, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re dating this new person, and they dress like you feel like you should be dressing. Am I totally off the mark here?” He asks, and I consider it.

“No, that’s uh… that makes sense.”

Shane leans forward, an intense look in his eyes that I can’t tear my eyes from.

“Ryan, you don’t need to change who you are because you’re starting to learn more about yourself.”

His words sit in my head for a minute as I process this.

“You’re right. I don’t want to change who I am.” I say slowly. Shane nods, looking like he’s ready to turn back to his computer. “But I am growing, and that’s kind of weird because I look exactly the same as when I was in college, when I was really dumb and didn’t care at all.”

“Well, that’s fair. You could upgrade your wardrobe to be a nicer version of what you like.” He offers, and I consider that.

“Yeah, that would be good, I think.”

He smiles, just the slightest quirk of his lips, and I grin back.

“I’m heading out.” He announces, packing up his computer and headphones and pushing his chair out.

“Before you go,” I reach out to grab his arm. “I have another date tomorrow after work. Think you could help me pick something nice to wear?”

I don’t miss how Shane stiffens, only slightly, and the look in his eyes shifts to something less sincere than just a minute ago.

“I don’t know that there’s enough time, your current options are pretty limited.” He says shrugging. That’s not really an answer, and I’m still waiting for him to give me one when he nods once, then gets up and walks away.

* * *

Wednesday is a mixture of nerves and exhaustion. I really picked a bad time to start dating someone.

My first _real_ date with Nathan is tonight, and I’m working on cutting together the first drafts of some of the videos we’d recently shot.

Shane gets up, moving toward the breakroom just as my phone pings. I grab for it, silencing it immediately before anyone looks over.

The message is from Nathan, confirming our plans for tonight. I smile, opening the message to text him back.

“Oh my god, are you still talking to that guy? You’re at work, Ryan.” Shane grumbles as he sits down next to me. He puts one mug of coffee by me and takes a drink of the other.

“Are you jealous?” I grin at Shane, closing the app and putting my phone away. Shane isn’t blushing necessarily, but it’s close enough that I take it as a win. He looks exasperated as he glowers at me. “You look a little jealous.”

“Obviously, I am, Ryan!” He finally admits, dropping his head back so I can’t see his face as he stares at the ceiling. “I’m extremely jealous. I hate watching you go out with other people.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I know you were already mad at me about the whole,” He looks around the room, lowering his voice. “Demon thing, I didn’t wanna push my luck.”

“Oh my god, Shane, I was over the demon thing weeks ago, _that’s_ why you’ve been avoiding me?” I sputter, almost laughing.

He smiles, shaking his head, looking relieved.

“Okay, green-eyed monster, why don’t you like me going out with other people then?” I ask, but Shane’s attention is directed above my shoulder, where Ned is approaching.

“Hey, Shane, I need another person for my video, and you drew the short straw.” He says, cheerfully. Shane frowns.

“I didn’t draw straws.”

“Well!” Is the only response he gets, along with a head jerk signifying the shoot is starting now. Shane looks at me, then back at Ned, sighs and gets up.

I turn back to my desk, the moment over now, but Shane leans down to whisper in my ear right before he leaves.

“Because you’re _mine_.”

And before I can have any reaction, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I sit down to write and black out, 2000 words later I have half of the chapter... guess here's another one broken into two parts!
> 
> Also, sorry this one took so long to publish, I just moved to LA (yes, in this economy! DW, I'm in the outskirts and quarantined) and am getting married in 2 weeks (ah !) so life has been INSANE 
> 
> Might be awhile before the next one too, but I'm working on it!


	10. Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathan nathan nathan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wHoop here's another chapter!

The thing is, when you’re dating someone like Nathan, dating is easy.

He sent me the name of the restaurant and met me there, looking exactly as sharp and put together as he did on Monday morning.

Fortunately, I managed to pull something a bit nicer together this time, with black jeans and my nice button-down. 

“You look great.” He says, greeting me with a smile and reaching for my hand. I blush, taking it and feeling his soft squeeze before he releases it and guides me inside.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.”

“Thank you. I hope you like Italian, this restaurant is where I usually take my parents when they visit me, but I don’t get many opportunities to come without them.” He tells me, and I nod.

“I love pasta.” I answer. “How long have you been in LA?”

“Oh, ten years or so. My parents live in San Francisco, but I came here for college. UCLA, class of 2010.”

“Chapman, 2013.”

“Hm, we probably played you guys once or twice. Our basketball team was okay those years.” He sits across from me at the table.

“Probably. I wasn’t on the team the entire time I was there, but I did play a couple of times.”

“College basketball, huh? You must be good. What position?” He asks, absently picking up a menu but not really looking at it.

“Point guard. I’m not sure if I was any good, just determined.” I joke, not knowing how to just take the damn compliment.

“I’m sure you were great. May I recommend the mushroom ravioli? I get it every time.” He says, folding his menu back up and resting his wrist on the table.

I nod, glancing over the menu but putting it back when nothing stands out to me. Nathan pulls his phone out.

“I hate to be that guy in LA, but can I take a picture? The lighting is amazing right now.” He smiles, and I laugh.

“I’m a YouTuber, I’m always _that guy_. Go for it.” I say, leaning on one hand for the picture and smiling.

“Do you mind if I post it? I don’t know how public you are with your personal business.”

“Uh, normally I wouldn’t mind, but you’re sort of like… the first man I’ve dated…” I scratch the back of my neck. I’m not really ready for the response of the fans and the media.

“Oh, you’re not out? That’s fine, I’ll just hang onto it.” He says, calm as ever.

“I’m really sorry-” I start, but he just shrugs.

“Everyone is on their own timeline, I’m not here to rush you.”

* * *

Thursday went by like a flash, but time slowed down again as Steven Lim came up to my desk.

“Hey Shane.” He greets, and Shane nods at him, deep in editing mode. Steven turns to me.

“Ryan, we’re starting a game after work, are you in?” He asks.

“If it means I can kick your ass again, sure.” I smirk. Steven is a good player but has some blind spots I’ve figured out. Then I think of something. “Is it cool if I invite a friend? He mentioned playing recently and I want to see if paralegals can work the court.”

“Wow, hilarious. Sure, what’s his name?”

“Nathan.”

* * *

As it turns out, Nathan is an excellent player, and I’m glad he’s on the same side as me.

It’s also good to see he owns clothes that aren’t suits.

Strangely, Shane showed up too, said he was there because he lost a bet to Zack Evans, which I didn’t question.

Shane sucks at basketball. It’s pretty funny.

“What’s the point of you being so tall if you can’t play at all?” I ask him while guarding him. He shrugs. Even his dribble is pretty uncontained. I can’t remember ever seeing Shane play before, and I wonder why he’s starting now.

“I’m a good distraction.” He offers, but we leave it there as I steal the ball and toss it to Ned.

My team wins, easily, and I high five all my teammates, smiling broadly and Nathan.

* * *

Friday is its standard affair, until Chantel asks me to help build a library set in the LadyLike studio.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Jen asks me as I walk in. I start to answer, but Chantel beats me to it.

“Brought him in for some extra muscle getting stuff put together. The bookcase isn’t going to build itself.” She jokes.

“We’re doing that today? I thought it could wait til Monday?” Freddy says.

“I need the set built tonight so I can film over the weekend. Sorry girls!” Chantel says, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Alright, but you’re buying my drinks tonight.” Devin says, giving Chantel a look. “Honestly, this job is so demanding.” She teases, sighing dramatically.

“It’s not too bad, we do have a couch in the bathroom.” Jen interrupts, sipping her kombucha. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure we all have, except Mr. Production Assistant fresh outta Chapman over there.” Kristen teases me, giving me one of her friendly headshakes as I grab the other end of the table Chantel is moving.

“Sorry, I didn’t choose the film life, the film life chose me.” I answer, trying to sound lofty and probably hitting arrogant instead. 

“We could always go back to being baristas, Fred.” Devin shrugs, a twinkle in her eye. “Karina would take us back.”

“Oh my god, that bitch would never give us breaks.” Freddy complains. “I had to crank out a million drinks an hour or I’d get written up.”

“That’s illegal, actually. You’re supposed to get a break.” I cut in. Devin frowns. “The uh, the guy I’m dating, he’s a paralegal.” I explain. “Been telling me about some laws, and stuff…”

“Oh???” In unison, all five girls crowd around me.

“I love young love!” Kristen grins. I roll my eyes.

“It’s only been a week, nobody’s dropping the L-word yet.” I blush.

“You have to tell us all about him over drinks tonight!” Devin claps her hands once, and I sigh.

“Yeah, okay, let’s just get this taken care of so we can head out with everyone else.”

“Oh my god, Ryan, that’s so exciting!”

While the girls draft up the plan, I pull out my phone to text Nathan.

Ryan: I think it might be time for me to come out, at least to my friends

Ryan: I’m thinking maybe you should join everyone for drinks after work today

Ryan: 5:05, Mickey’s Bar, off 5th

I send the text, my heart beating as I wait to hear back from Nathan.

Nathan: I’ll be there :)

We get back on track, building the set in no time and actually making it out of the office right on schedule.

Nathan has a table by the time Buzzfeed and I arrive, and he waves me over.

“Ryan, is that your boyfriend?” Kristen elbows me as we walk over. I grin.

“Yeah, Nathan.” I answer, biting my lip to try to play it cool.

“Well done, Bergara.” Devin says from beside Kristen, whistling lowly. I blush even more.

“Please don’t embarrass me, guys.” I plead in a whisper as we approach him.

“Hey Ryan,” Nathan greets me, reaching for my hand and giving it the softest squeeze. I smile at him.

“Hi, thanks for joining us.”

“Nathan, right? I’m Freddy.” Freddy sneaks up, holding her hand out, which Nathan shakes.

“Nice to meet you, Freddy.” He says politely.

From there, everyone introduces themselves, and Nathan leans in to whisper in my ear.

“No way am I going to remember all these names.”

“That’s alright, most of them also answer to ‘hey, dipshit.’” I say, and he snorts.

“Great first impression that would be. Where’s your friend? Shane?” He asks, looking around no doubt for the tallest person, eyeing Garrett.

“Oh, he’s always late. He lives close to the office, so he goes home to change most of the time.” I explain. I’m really hoping he doesn’t go overboard with the outfit tonight, but I have a feeling he will.

“Well, I look forward to meeting him. Introduce me when he gets here.” He says, bumping against my shoulder and getting up to order at the bar.

“Ryan, he’s really cute!” Jen leans in to tell me. I drop my face into my hands.

“Can we please talk about this another time? Maybe when he’s not present?” I plead, my voice muffled.

“Absolutely, we _will_ talk about this later!” She promises, patting my arm and disappearing into the crowd.

Right on time (about 20 minutes later), Shane comes in, making his way towards us as dramatically as he usually does.

“Oh my god.” I say, just under my breath enough that nobody picks up on it. I’m one and a half drinks in, and not nearly drunk enough for this night.

Of course, Shane showed up wearing a sleeveless cropped black turtleneck and distressed jean shorts. My best friend is the most extra person in the universe and now he’s meeting my _very_ new boyfriend.

I’m fairly certain that’s a new top. At least, in several years of friendship, that I’d never seen it. I find myself staring a little too long at the exposed skin on his middle, snapping myself out of it.

The introductions go unexpectedly well. Nathan is as nice as ever, and Shane is surprisingly friendly. He’s only with us for a few minutes before excusing himself to get a drink.

“He seems cool.” Nathan says, always smiling. I shrug.

“He’s a huge pain in the ass, but he’s still my best friend.”

I maintain that sentiment until Shane comes back with one of his usual bloody looking cocktails. He’s been sipping at it on the way over and it’s stained his lips a darker red. I tear my eyes away.

“Karaoke? Karaoke? Ryan- karaoke?” Jen says, pointing around as she recruits people.

“Pass, I have a date, I don’t want to lose him because of my terrible singing.” I joke, leaning against Nathan. He laughs.

“Count me in.” Shane says, rising. He follows her to the little stage with a few other coworkers as they pick their songs.

Predictably, Kristen sings a love ballad to her husband, who joined us here, Ned and Ariel sang a sickeningly cute duet, and Eugene brings down the house with an over the top performance. Then it’s Shane’s turn, and I force myself to let out the breath I’m holding.

It starts out funny, with Shane singing the way he does in the Hot Daga, a goofy John Legend performance. Our friends whoop and cheer and he winks at Jen, who laughs loudly.

But then, he looks at me, and it’s less funny. His voice loses the joking quality and he’s just singing.

I take a long drink of my beer, just so I don’t have to look back at him. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not something I want to be feeling on a date with someone else.

Finally, the song is over, and our coworkers clap and cheer for him, and I watch him blush and leave the little stage.

“Hey, wanna head out? I was thinking of walking home.” I suggest to Nathan, who shrugs.

“Absolutely, I don’t live far.” He says, taking my hand. I finish my beer and follow him out.

I can’t resist one last look at where Shane was, where he’s now talking to our friends, who are laughing. Just as I’m looking away, he meets my eyes, but then I’m gone.

The cool evening air hits me, helping to clear my head.

“That was fun, thanks for inviting me.” Nathan says. “It was nice to meet your friends.”

“Yeah, it was easier than I thought, coming out.” I admit. “I mean, it is Buzzfeed, where it’s unusual to be perfectly straight.”

“It’s a soft coming out, give you some more confidence for the tougher crowds.” Nathan agrees, and his hand gives mine a squeeze.

It’s easy to walk with him in silence, just thinking. The sounds of traffic and restaurants surround us, and it’s almost easier to not talk, rather than have to shout to be heard.

Nathan meant it when he said he lived close. We get to his apartment quickly, and he nods up at it.

“This is me.” He smiles.

“I had a great time tonight.” I tell him, and he nods.

“Me too. I’ll talk to you soon?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just-” I begin, then lean in closer. “I just-” My voice is softer as I lean up on my toes. I pause, let him move in the last inches.

Then we’re kissing on his doorstep, world be damned.

It’s sweet, just the press of his lips against mine. I expected stubble, but his face is smooth, lips soft and warm.

I pull back, biting my lip.

“Yeah, so I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you soon then.” I back off the step, and he laughs.

“Soon then, Ryan.”

He lets himself into the building and waves one last time before he moves out of sight.

The walk to my apartment is a bit longer, but I’m glad for it, as I dwell on the kiss, and really the _Nathan_ of it all.

I think about the evening, but that leads me back to Shane, and his stupid, haunting song that it felt like he sang just for me.

Shane and that stupid outfit with the fucking red drink because he thinks it’s funny that I called him a vampire and now it’s a bit.

Fucking Shane and the goddamn way he gets under my skin and occupies my thoughts even after a great night with the person I’m actually dating.

well, _fuck._

* * *

All of Saturday, I’m just thinking.

Early in the morning, I go to the gym, work up a good sweat and exhaust myself, but the thoughts still swirl around my head.

I shower and shave, but it does nothing to distract me.

Three hours of Dark Souls later, and I’m still mulling over everything.

The thing is, I _know_ Nathan likes me, because he told me so. I know he wants to date me because he keeps asking me out. I know I like him, we have a lot in common, we have similar humor and we never argue about stupid shit.

But at the same time, there’s Shane.

Shane, who can make me forget my own name just by looking into my eyes. Shane, who sings a dumb song from 2014 at karaoke and still makes it a good performance. Shane, who challenges me to think and wonder and push myself to be better.

I kissed Nathan last night, but for some reason, Shane is still on my mind. First kisses should dominate your world for at least a day, shouldn’t they?

If I really feel strongly for Nathan, how can Shane grab and hold my attention just by _existing?_

All things said, I’m being a really shitty boyfriend.

I always hated the Jim-Pam-Karen thing, where Jim sucked as a boyfriend because he was so hung up on Pam. Just get the fuck over Pam, and commit to your person, why is that so hard? Text Pam and tell her that you’re taking some space to focus on your actual relationship. Right?

I knew what I had to do, shooting off a text and putting my shoes on.

* * *

“Hey, thanks for meeting me.”

“What’s this about, Ryan?” Nathan says, his dark eyes soft as ever, making me feel even worse. No doubt, he can tell what I’m about to say by my face alone.

“I’m just going to come out and say it. I don’t think I can keep seeing you.” I tell him, not meeting his eyes.

The bartender interrupts then, taking Nathan’s order and then leaving again.

“Is it just me feeling like this is a bit out of nowhere?” He asks, leaning one elbow on the bar and resting his chin on his hand. I smile.

“No, it is, super out of nowhere, and I’m really sorry. It’s just-” I sigh, heavily. “It’s a little complicated.”

“Okay, do you want to tell me why?” He asks, and his patience is undeserved.

“I like you, Nathan.” I say, my mouth open but no words ready.

He waits me out, and it’s a little ruthless, but I’m glad for it.

“This would be so much easier if you sucked.” I try to laugh. “But you’re great, and you’ve been nothing but amazing.” I pause again. “Honestly? The guy that made me realize I’m not straight is, uh… is Shane. And I don’t think it’s fair to be with you when I feel like this about him. Not fair to any of us.” I clarify. I finally look at him.

He’s smiling, but it looks a little sad.

“I thought something like that.” He admits, thanking the bartender for his drink and taking a long swallow.

“I’d love for you to stick around though, I don’t know if that’s okay to say.” I admit. When he still looks confused, I add, “I mean maybe join a pickup game or meet everyone for drinks. I think we could be friends.”

“I don’t know that it’s a good idea, at least not right now.” He says. I sigh.

“You’re probably right. I had to ask, though.”

“Well, unless you wanted to do some breakup karaoke, I think I’ll head out.” He says, after a short silence, getting off the barstool. He finishes his drink, then smiles at me. “I hope someday, someone looks at me the way he looks at you.”

I have no idea what the fuck he means by that.

But he’s gone, and the bartender comes back to charge me for the two drinks.

Well, fair enough.

* * *

**2:38am**

Ryan: wanna come over for drinks

Ryan: The Thing is in my DVD player waiting for viewers

Shane: what a bizarre booty call

Shane: sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my gOd these chapters are only getting longer, but I didn't want to break them up further T_T 
> 
> I really wanted you guys to like and get to know Nathan, hence miles and miles of chapter, but I'm happy he's back out of the picture so we can get back to That Good Shit.
> 
> Stay tuned for Additional Pining and some fun ~shyan~ content next chapter!


	11. Out with the old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane helps Ryan cope, and clear out his closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, third chapter update within the week!

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Shane asks. I ignore the tone he uses.

“ _Nathan_ is probably at home, why?”

Shane shrugs.

“He sucks at basketball.”

“No, he doesn’t, you don’t know how the game works.” I retort, a little annoyed with this line of conversation.

“He didn’t sink a single basket, isn’t that kind of the point?”

“He sank plenty, were you even watching? Why are we talking about this, you hate sports.”

Shane shrugs again, flopping onto the couch.

“I don’t know, you started it.” He smirks, and I just roll my eyes and get us beer from the fridge.

“Fuck you, dude. Did you want to watch the movie?” I say, handing him one bottle and taking a long pull from the other. I’m on my fourth drink tonight but can’t bring myself to care right now.

“If you want to. I’m okay just hanging out.” He says, noncommittally.

“Okay, talk to me then. What have you been up to this week?” I ask, realizing I don’t know anything he’s done other than film with me and apparently buy a new shirt.

“Mostly nothing, moping around now that my best friend is dating and I don’t have anyone to bring to the tiki bar now.” He says, his words joking but his eyes looking serious.

“I’m not- we’re not dating anymore.” I tell Shane, and his eyes open a bit wider.

“He dumped you? Is that why you’re all pissy tonight?” He asks. I frown.

“Fuck you, no, I dumped him, earlier tonight. Why did you think he did the dumping?” I ask.

“Well, usually when one breaks up with someone, one has a good reason and one doesn’t defend their honor in basketball stats.”

“I did have a good reason, but if you don’t mind, can we move off the subject of my very recent breakup?” I complain, and Shane laughs.

“Sure. Do you think you’ll start dating someone else soon?” He asks, and I scowl. “Sorry, right. No relationship talk. Did you see the Rotten Tomatoes score on Sharknado?”

I laugh loudly, shaking my head.

“I still haven’t seen the movie. How terrible was it?”

“Well, the premise is a tornado of sharks destroying the world, so make a guess.”

With that, we’re back to our usual dynamic, talking movies, movie stars, office gossip… It was like nothing had happened between us. I think the beauty of our relationship is that nothing affects it for very long.

“Did you mean what you said when you wanted to start dressing nicer?” Shane asks.

“I mean, yeah. I’m not dating Nathan anymore, but I think it’s time I stop dressing like a frat boy. Why?”

“I could go through your clothes with you, you know, clear out and make room for better stuff.” He offers, trying to seem casual, but I can see right through him.

“Yeah. I’d like that. I’m drowning in basketball shorts.”

“Those will be the first to go. I’ve gotta be honest, Ryan, I am glad you broke up because he kind of sucked. Super clingy.” Shane says, finishing his second beer.

“If you didn’t like him, why didn’t you just say so?” I push, getting up to put the empty beer bottles in the recycling, swaying slightly.

“It sounds so petty, what did you want me to say? ‘I don’t like watching him touch you.’?” Shane shrugs, getting up to follow me. I straighten up, gripping the counter for balance.

“Why are you so goddamn tall?” I ask, frowning up at his frankly offensive height.

He doesn’t seem phased by the new topic, laughing loudly.

“You can’t possibly be 5’10, you’re like an entire foot shorter than me!” He fires back.

“I am not! It’s six fucking inches! Fuck you- see!” I gesture at the mirror at the end of my hallway. “Not a foot you fucking moron!” I insist, walking closer to it.

Shane follows, and we end up standing side by side in front of it to measure our height difference.

I don’t even notice when he shifts behind me, only realizing he’s moved when one arm snakes across my chest to pin me against him, and the other dips dangerously down over my hips, hand curling around the bone.

“It’s six inches.” I insist, the silence giving me too much to think about. Shane hums in my ear, and a shiver runs up my spine. I feel goosebumps all over my skin. I lean back into his chest.

“Whatever you say, _baby_.” He whispers, lips brushing my ear. A high-pitched whine slips out before I realize, and I blink quickly as his eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not moving and barely making any noise.

“He touched you how _I_ want to touch you.” Shane says, voice nearly a growl.

His hand tucks into the front of my pants, not to relieve any frustration, but to possessively press against my skin, fingers not even an inch from my _throbbing_ erection.

I whine in frustration, trying to shift my hips to move his hand where I want it, but he keeps it stubbornly planted where it is.

By now, I’m painfully hard, and if the bastard leaves without taking care of that, when it’s so clearly his goddamn fault, I am going to be very pissed.

“ _Shane-”_ I whine, voice a wreck just from the small touches he’s given me.

Shane hums, sounding casual and unaffected, but his eyes tell a different story. He lets them fall from mine, down my body and then back up, his hand gripping my hip.

“I want you to want me.” I tell him, voice barely audible but I know he can hear me.

“You have no idea- Ryan, I want this, but I want it when you’re not wasted.” Shane promises me, withdrawing his hold completely to my absolute dismay.

“You can’t just _do_ that!” I sputter, facing him. He frowns.

“Do what?”

“Get me all worked up and then _leave,_ that’s just unfair, Shane.” I protest.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” Shane promises, and then he’s gone.

My right hand is my only company that night, but it’s surprisingly not only 6 hours later when Shane is back on my doorstep.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, sleepy, cranky and super hungover.

“I’m here for the clothes, Ryan. I’m going to burn your athleisure before you think about it and change your mind.” He says, moving past me and into my apartment.

“You remember the first time you came over and wouldn’t come inside until I invited you?” I ask, frowning at his back moving towards my kitchen.

“Sure.”

“I should’ve enjoyed that more while I had it.” I said, following him.

“I’m here as a favor to you, Ryan. Your clothes are a national tragedy and I’m here to solve that problem.” He says, pushing a miraculously fast cup of coffee into my hands.

“How did you make that so fast?” I ask. He ignores me, opening up my bare kitchen cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Ah, here we go, baby.” He says, pulling out my box of trash bags. “Now we’re ready to start.”

He has a maniacal look on his face, so I don’t dare argue, merely trailing behind him as he goes to my room and opens the closet.

“Wait!” I try to stop him, but by the time I’ve said it, he’s already looking at it.

It being the horrifying disarray of my closet.

“Ryan, I’ve been to a spider-infested creepy doll island with you, and this is the most scared I’ve ever been.” He says, deadpan. I roll my eyes.

“It’s not that bad. I know where everything is.” I claim, but the look he gives me tells me the lie was not delivered well.

“Sure. Why do you have so many damn jerseys?” He asks, collecting them one by one with distaste.

“I’m a sports guy, Shane, it’s what we do.”

“You don’t wear them.”

“Not around you, no. They’re for playing and watching games in. Some are collector’s and pretty valuable.” I insist, grabbing my collection from his hands, where they hover over the first trash bag.

“So, sell them, and buy nice shirts that you can wear around me.” He shrugs.

“Never! I couldn’t.” I say, picking through them and putting the special ones aside. “Although I guess I can get rid of my old college jerseys.” I say, tossing the handful of well-worn staticky shirts into the discard pile.

“There you go, let go of the frat boy so the mature, stylish man can breathe.” He grins, getting to work sorting the clothes into piles of pants, shirts and jackets.

“Man, I wish there was a mature, stylish man inside me.” I say, then feel my face flush. “I didn’t mean-”

“That’s what she said.” Shane snorts. “Or he, we’re gay-friendly around here.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

* * *

By the time we finished, my closet had been condensed to mostly nicer tshirts and button downs. Shane had mercifully let me keep all my pants, telling me what aspects made them good and what to wear them with.

Ripped jeans he finds especially sexy, apparently. He didn’t say so outright, but spent far longer talking about why they look good on me. I make a note to wear them more.

We loaded up the bags into my car to drive them over to his apartment. He told me he had a friend who runs an eBay store and could sell most of it.

When we got there, Shane got out, grabbing the smaller of the bags, leaving the large one for me to bring inside, I blame his noodle arms.

“You’re sure your friend can sell all this crap? I feel like I’m just dumping it on him.” I confirm, and Shane shrugs. I curse his apartment for being on the fourth floor with no elevator.

“Probably not all of it, but definitely a good amount. The rest we can just donate.” He reassures me.

“This is way too heavy to just be a bunch of tshirts, my shoulders are killing me.” I say, dropping the bag on his apartment floor and moving my arms around to try to loosen up my stiff muscles.

Shane mutters under his breath, something that sounds a lot like ‘They’re killing me too.’

“What was that?” I ask, and he _blushes_.

“Do you want a massage?” He asks instead.

“If I ever say no to that, please do me a favor and shoot me in the head.” I say, grinning as I follow him to his room.

As it turns out, when Shane offers a massage, he’s really offering an _experience._

He started by having me lay on his bed, which, first of all, score. Then took off my shirt and rubbed an oil into my skin. By the time he finally starts the massage itself, I’m unbearably horny and will take any contact he wants to give me. It takes all my willpower to not moan with every motion.

“You have to work with me here, buddy.” Shane says, patting my arms.

“Hm?” I grunt. He laughs.

“Relax, you’re super stiff. Unclench your muscles.” He explains, gently stroking along my sides and arms to lull my body into a more pliable state. “There you go.” He says softly.

I let out an embarrassingly loud groan as soon as he starts massaging again. He presses into a spot along my spine that sends a shock wave right down to my cock, and my eyes close and mouth drops open.

“Oh, right there?” He asks, pressing down again. He moves his hands up and down, applying pressure along my back in just the right way and it has me grabbing the bedsheets and moaning incessantly. “That’s good to know.” I hear him whisper, and my cheeks flush.

“Shane-” I pant, trying to push myself up. He puts his hand flat against my back, but stops massaging. “I- I need a minute, please?” I hear myself croak, and he laughs lightly, standing up.

“Sure.”

Once he’s gone, I thrust my hips into his mattress a few times to take the edge off. I haven’t been this turned on in a while, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Shane comes back a bit later with a glass of water. I thank him, sitting up and downing the whole thing in one go. He grins, taking the empty glass back.

“So, keep in mind that I can use that against you at any time.” He says, and I’m about to ask what the fuck he means, when he reaches around behind me, pressing into _that spot_ and I fall flat against the mattress with a moan.

This was an unintended consequence that could end up working in my favor if I play my cards right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and I love getting to talk about my story with you!! <3


	12. The Start of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan meets Fashion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoy this one, I'm super excited to post it!

“Where’s Shane?”

This is the fifth time someone has asked me, and I almost roll my eyes. I’d asked Kelsey Darragh why she asked me, which may have come out harsher than intended.

_“I’m not Shane’s babysitter, why does everyone assume I know.”_

_“Because for the last three years, you two have been joined at the hip. Do you not know where he is?”_

_I sigh._

_“He’s at the office, finishing some editing.”_

_“Thought you might.”_

“He had to work on something in the office, said he’d be late.” I tell them, an intern whose name I never learned, and now it’s too awkward to ask because I really should know. “But he’s usually not _this_ late.” I grumble, more to myself than anyone else.

“If he doesn’t come soon, he’ll miss the whole party!” She exclaims, but I shrug, not knowing whether or not she expected a response anyway. She weaves back through the crowd and I lean against the back of the booth.

Everyone involved in Unsolved, or friends with someone who is, joined us (me, TJ, Devon, Matty, Mark and Katie) at a sports bar down the street from the office. We’re celebrating the end of Unsolved Season 3’s shooting schedule, our biggest season yet.

Everyone is here but Shane, and to be honest, the party doesn’t really start until he arrives. He brings a certain… _je ne sais quoi_ … that really kicks things up a notch.

Shane arrives sometime between the first shot of tequila and my second beer.

I spot his head over the crowd the second he walks in, and definitely not because I’ve been obsessively watching the door all night. I quickly look away before he catches me staring, only looking back when he breaches the crowd on the dance floor to approach our table.

My jaw hits the floor, and blood rushes south so fast that I’m dizzy.

Shane _stole my jersey._

Well, more accurately, he kept it when I put it in the bag for his friend to sell (is there even a _friend_ who’s going to sell my crap or is this what he wanted it for?). I’d all but forgotten the stupid college jerseys I’d put in the bag, but I couldn’t think of anything else now.

I’m also wondering what else he may have kept and whether or not he’s planning on wearing it.

The dark red and white jersey is cut short just under his ribs, and a good few inches of skin show between its edge and the top of his distressed jean shorts.

_fuck, those shorts haunt my dreams_

Ever since he wore them to drinks that one Friday, I’ve seen Shane’s pale, smooth, unfairly long legs in those shorts behind my eyelids every time I shut them. I try to remember exactly what his skin felt like back when he put his feet in my lap, and I hope he does that again sometime.

His feet are in these black boots that I complimented when he last wore them, chunky leather boots that balance out the sportiness of the jersey. Of course, every outfit is perfectly put together.

In the dim light of the bar, his legs look even longer, and I want nothing more than to get my hands – or mouth – on them.

Worst of all, when my eyes move back up to his face, he’s already looking back, watching me check him out and pretty much lose my damn mind.

He winks at me, brazen and flirty. With the quirk of an eyebrow, he turns around, keeping eye contact until the last second, with the thin excuse of greeting someone I barely recognize. It’s clear he turned around just for me to look at the back of the jersey.

And look I did.

Across his shoulders, in big white letters, ‘BERGARA’ is proclaimed.

_Mine._

His voice echoes in my head.

I don’t understand how Shane wearing _my_ jersey can make me feel so _his._ It should be me thinking that he’s shouting, ‘I belong to Ryan Bergara and no one else,’ but I feel like Shane has somehow done the opposite.

_I belong to_ him. No one else.

After another second, he turns back around, approaching me and looking far too comfortable.

As he gets closer, I can see the faint shine on his lips – lip gloss, the bastard. He knows I love shiny lips.

“Feel free to admire me.” He says, so goddamn pleased with himself.

“What the _fuck_ , Shane? Did you go home and change?” I ask, my voice hoarse and breathy, but I can’t find it in me to care.

“Packed it this morning, I did actually have work to finish.” He says, sliding into the booth next to me. He’s far too close to me, his bare thigh resting against mine.

“Shane, you’re here!” My thoughts are interrupted by Katie, who pulls out her phone. “Ghoul Boys picture, come on!” She says, aiming her camera at us.

Shane leans closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I put mine around his waist, normal procedure, but forgot his attire, which resulted in my hand gripping his bare hip. I felt my thumb caress his side softly, raising goosebumps on his skin. I count that as a win.

My face is redder than it’s been in my entire life, I’m sure of it. No doubt, this picture will go up on the Instagram page for all our fans to see, 'hey, maybe Shyan _is_ real!'

Hey, I hope they’re right.

* * *

I walked into the Nordstrom Rack looking like a child who’d lost his mom in the grocery store. That must’ve been why I was approached immediately by a stylish guy who looked like he just leaving his teens.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, and I laughed.

“Yes please. I just, uh… don’t know what I’m looking for yet.” I admit. He smiles.

“Well, that’s a good place to start. Clothes? Accessories? Shoes?”

“Clothes, I need to up my style. I’m sort of like…” I wave my hands around generally, like that will help me explain this weird situation. “I’m kind of in a fashion competition with my best friend, he’s always perfectly dressed, and I need to match it. I sort of have a crush on him, and I think that might help show I’m making an effort? Or something? I’m rambling, but like, I need clothes that will make me look hot, so maybe start there?”

I’m feeling like I’m three or four words away from this poor kid just walking away or telling me I need parachute pants to be sexy now.

Instead, he laughs.

“I know _exactly_ what you mean. I can help you.”

By help me, Trevor, I learned his name is, means he’ll show me how to shop for the right size, colors and shapes. I then try on dozens of items while he works nearby, giving me a thumbs up or down for each item.

In the end, I choose several nice button downs, a couple new pairs of pants, a few accessories and what Trevor assures me are ‘the latest’ in men’s casual shoes. Whatever, they look good on me is the point.

I wave to him as I leave with my new clothes, then call Curly on the way out.

“Hey, can you come over to mine this evening?” I ask as soon as he picks up. He snorts.

“Are you propositioning me?” He asks, indelicately.

“No! No, not like, I would never, but like, you’re my friend and colleague?” I cover. He just laughs at me, so I continue. “No, I need fashion help and I figured the kid at Nordstrom Rack has given enough of his shift already.”

“Fashion help, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“Work tomorrow.” I say sheepishly, and he doesn’t respond right away.

“Do you have a pitch meeting or something? I though Unsolved was already renewed?”

“Oh, it is. No, I wanted to dress up for… like just to be a little more…” I trail off, but when he clearly isn’t satisfied with that, I fess up. “I’m dressing up for Shane.”

“Ohhh! Ryan Bergara!” He exclaims, rustling in the background like he’s just now invested in this conversation.

“It’s not- he hasn’t-”

“It’s not a thing _,_ it’s just a _thing_?” He offers, and I confirm.

“He’s always so fucking well-dressed, and like, I’m just sick of him looking like sex on a fucking popsicle stick, I guess.”

“You want your turn looking like sex on a popsicle stick?” He asks, and I laugh, but say yes. “I can make that happen, my friend. I’ll be over at 6, order us some tacos for dinner.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” I say, heading home.

Curly arrives shortly after me, and the food is delivered soon after that. We eat first, then start going through my clothes, including my old stuff.

“So, all I know is that it has to include these ripped jeans.” I tell him, holding up the black skinny jeans that Shane really likes. To be fair, they hug my ass more than the rest of my pants, and the rips are really well done.

“Hm, who knew Shane would be such a thighs and ass man, huh?” Curly chuckles, but lays the pants out on the bed. “I’m really liking these pastel button downs, but they don’t scream ‘sex.’”

“Most of my clothes don’t.”

“We want to avoid ‘obscene,’ because it’s still an office, but since it is fall, let’s find something with warm, dark tones.”

We each pick out two shirts, all dark purples and reds, and settle on a casual, snug purple one with the sleeves rolled up and top two buttons open. Curly chooses a belt and shoes, and shows me how to style my hair down instead of how I usually wear it.

Altogether, it’s a pretty striking look, and one that contrasts how I usually dress. Dare I say, I look sexy.

“ _Mio dio,_ Ryan,” Curly grins, fanning himself. “I think I did a good job with this one.”

“Thanks, Curly, I couldn’t have done it without you.” I laugh, relieved at the success. Half of me was worried there would be no way for me to pull this off without looking too formal or too obscene for the office.

“Probably not.” Curly agrees, patting me on the shoulder. He leaves soon after with our dinner leftovers, and I lay the clothes out again so they’re ready for tomorrow.

* * *

Morning comes far too quickly. I don’t sleep well because of the anticipation and get up an hour early to go work out.

Once my muscles are pumped up to my satisfaction, I head home, shower and redress, styling my hair and adjusting each article until it looked exactly like last night. I also add a watch and a couple of rings I’d picked out yesterday. I look pretty hot, if I do say so myself.

Happy with the look – and having spent more time than I’ve ever spent on my appearance, I head to the office.

Sara spots me first, whistling lowly and looking curious, but ultimately not saying anything. I pass Curly, and he gives me a thumbs up and a wink. By the time I reach our desks, I’m feeling confident with my look, and wanting to see Shane’s reaction.

He’s not there. Fuck.

I frown, disappointed, at his empty chair, but don’t have too long to wait as I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“Screw casual Fridays, I guess.” He snorts, passing me as he moves to his chair with a few pages in his hands. I only have a second to feel the letdown before he turns to look at me from the front, and his mouth drops open.

I smirk a little, leaning against my desk as he eyes me. I understand why he takes the time to dress up all the time, this reaction is priceless and doing wonders for my ego.

“Good morning to you too.” I break the silence, setting my bag down and grabbing his coffee mug.

This is sort of an experiment. Normally, Shane hates when I take his food or drinks. The fact that today, he lets me, even watching me take a sip and lick my lips like he’s having an Experience, tells me all I need to know.

“That’s my coffee.” He complains weakly, but doesn’t stop me.

“I know.” I answer. He swallows, blinks a few times and puts the now crinkled papers he’d been holding on his desk.

“What’s the occasion?” He asks, clearing his throat when his voice still sounds hoarse.

“No occasion, just wanted to dress up a little.” I say, taking my seat next to him. As I start up my computer, I realize several of our coworkers had been watching our exchange with grins. I feel my neck grow hot as I try to ignore them.

I pick up my phone, opening my text chain with Shane. I decide to put in a little more effort on that front as well.

Ryan: So

Ryan: You’re a fan

Shane’s phone buzzes, and he looks at me with a weird expression before he picks it up.

Shane: you could say that

Ryan: Should I dress up more often?

Shane: definitely, preferably all the time.

Shane: it’s more professional, you know?

Ryan: Oh yeah, absolutely

Shane: you look good

Ryan: How good?

Shane: honestly?

Shane: choke me, Ryan

I feel the breath wheeze out of me, my hand flexes where it rests on my thigh. I see Shane eyeing the motion. I consider this a huge success.

* * *

The day is almost normal, despite the extra comments I receive complimenting my appearance. I even have Curly take a picture of me outside for my Instagram.

Shane is not far from me all day, even taking his lunch early to get Chipotle with me.

When I get my own coffee from the breakroom, he takes a few sips from my mug.

“You drank mine.” He explains. I shrug.

When I head out, Shane says he’s still wrapping things up, declining my offer to drive him home. I offer to stay, but he brushes me off.

“No, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here, and I’d hate making you stick around while I edit the Hotdaga.”

So, I head home alone, disappointed that he didn’t join me.

My couch welcomes me, and although my outfit is hardly comfortable, I’m not ready to take it off.

I eye the identical rings sitting on my middle and index finger, each with an angry looking skull on it.

I sigh, pulling out my phone.

Ryan: I mean this in the most respectful and work appropriate way possible

Ryan: and you can totally just ignore this and we’ll never talk about it again

Ryan: I really want to fuck you.

Direct, no room for interpretation. Maybe Shane just isn’t aware. Now, the ball is in his court.

The three dots pop up and down a few times, and I just watch them dance.

Shane: Ryan, I don’t think that’s a great idea

My heart is pounding in my face, and I frown.

Ryan: because of work stuff?

Buzzfeed doesn’t have any policies against relationships, but many people choose to keep romantic entanglements out of the office for professionalism or whatever.

Shane: it would be insanely dumb. A lot of people rely on us being cool around each other

Shane: it’s just too risky

Ryan: okay

Ryan: that’s fine, forget I ever said anything

Shane: are we good?

Ryan: only if you meet me at the Tiki bar for drinks

Ryan: not a date

Shane: I’m always down to not-a-date you

* * *

Shane meets me there, wearing a different outfit than before. Now, he’s in a Hawaiian shirt with a pattern only he can pull off tied around his middle. He’s also wearing something else I haven’t seen him in before, a leather skirt. It makes his waist look tiny, flaring out over his hips and ending mid-thigh. It’s really unfair of him to wear it on a not-date.

I keep it in my pants.

“I’ve missed this.” He says, sitting across from me at the booth in the corner. I smile.

“Me too. Just the ghoul boys going out for drinks at the best Tiki bar in town.”

“Just like the good ol’ days.” He bumps his knee against mine under the table. My eyes fall to my hands, and I remember.

“Oh, I got us ghoul boy rings.” I tell him, pulling them off my hand and setting one down in front of him. He grins as he examines the little skull.

“Ry, I love them, but I can’t wear this.” His grin falters as he looks back at me. He does look genuinely disappointed, but I’m confused.

“You can’t- Shane, I’m not proposing.” I clarify, but he just laughs, throwing his head back.

“I didn’t think you were. No, I’m allergic to this.” He explains, nudging it back towards me with his fingernail.

“Uh, this is silver, you can’t wear silver?” I ask, my mind taking off. I’d been so wrapped up in the drama, I’d forgotten that Shane is suspiciously maybe not a human.

“Nope, no, stop that little squirrel brain of yours, I am not a demon. We’ve been over this. This is almost guaranteed to have nickel in it, which I’m allergic to. I can touch it, but my finger will swell up if I wear it, trust me.”

“Nickel? Fucking- Shane, I swear-” I begin, but he cuts me off, picking up the ring and slipping it on.

“I’m touching it, Ryan, and nothing is burning.” He shows me his hand, and I take it, shifting the ring to check his skin underneath it. Sure enough, no problem there.

Then, I’m holding his hand, looking at his face and neither one of us is talking. My eyes drop to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the cliffhanger! I'm working on the next chapter already and if the last few are any indication, that should be up later this week. Another looooong chapter, hope you don't mind :0


	13. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honesty Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this one, and I can't wait for you all to read it!

My gaze lingers on Shane’s lips for a second too long, then back to his eyes.

Shane yanks his hand out of mine, sliding out of the booth and standing.

“Did you want a drink other than beer? I’m going to get something.” He says, moving away. I shrug.

“Bring back a couple shots of tequila?”

Shane wrinkles his nose, but nods and walks to the bar.

Well, I walked right into that. I frown, drinking the last of my beer and giving myself a stern talking to.

Here we are, fresh off his rejection and I’m still pushing the boundaries of our friendship. I need to back the fuck off or Shane won’t be comfortable hanging out with me. I promised to let it go if he wasn’t into me, and here I am.

When Shane gets back, a cocktail and two shots in his hands, I apologize.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m making shit weird. I’ll back off, I promise.” I tell him, not making eye contact and downing one shot. He takes a sip of his drink too.

“We have a good thing here; I just don’t want to fuck everything up.” He admits, resting his face on one hand. I nod.

“Me neither. Buds?” I ask, lifting my fist to bump against his. He rolls his eyes, but bumps his against mine.

“Sure, _buds._ ” He agrees.

“I know I just said I’m trying not to make things weird, but uh… you have a weirdly deep belly button.” I tell him, looking at his face while he grins.

“Yeah, that’s why people always use me to do body shots.” He replies, and isn’t _that_ a thought.

“Oh, do they?” I say, voice carefully neutral.

“Sure. You wanna try?” He offers. This was not part of the plan, but I can’t resist the idea now that it’s there.

“Yeah, I’m game. How do you do this?”

“You’re telling me you were in a frat and you’ve never done a body shot?” He sounds incredulous.

“Oh, you’re right, all my frat brothers were just lining up for me to suck tequila out of their belly buttons.” I answer with a snort. “My frat pretty much only drank vodka and beer. Not the classiest on the planet.”

“Fair enough. I’ll lay on the table, you pour a shot into my belly button and lick somewhere to put salt on. We need a lime, too.” He explains, getting up again to get limes from the bar. While he’s gone, I move our napkins and empty glasses to the side so he can lay down.

“I hope your belly button is clean, I don’t want to slurp up lint tonight.” I joke, helping Shane get on the table without tipping it over. He laughs.

“I’m always clean, you should know that by now.”

With that, I arrange the salt shaker and lime within arm’s reach, then pour the shot onto Shane. He jumps a little.

“Tickles.” He explains.

“Can I lick you?” I ask, which is kind of a stupid question since I’m going to put my mouth on him anyway, but I don’t want to fuck up more than I already have. He shrugs.

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s leaning back, one arm behind his head and the other laying along the edge of the table, relaxed. One foot is propped up against the back of the booth, but the other is hanging off the table. I grab the salt in one hand and the higher leg’s knee.

I lean in, then pause to look at him confirming this is okay. He’s watching me, a look in his eyes that I’m starting to recognize. With that as confirmation, I lick a thick line along Shane’s inner thigh. It’s smooth and cool under my tongue.

Shane whines the most desperate and sinful noise I’ve ever heard and his head thumps back against the table. I notice his knuckles white in their grip on the table edge.

“Is that okay?” I check, but Shane nods frantically, a breathy ‘yeah’ making it out as I lick him again and sprinkle salt onto the damp spot. 

As I pull away, I nip lightly next to the salt. Another moan sneaks out of his mouth, and his hips lift off the table slightly.

Call it an experiment, but the way Shane reacts will probably be in the highlight reel that flashes through my head right before I die.

“Careful, you’ll spill the tequila.” I warn, my voice just as fucked as his. He nods.

I take a deep breath, taking in the flushed body of my best friend laying in front of me. _fuck._

He starts getting a little squirmy, so I lean in to suck the alcohol off his stomach, licking the dip to make sure I got it all. I follow that by licking the salt off his thigh, then bite into the lime.

That was the hottest five minutes I’ve had the privilege of being a part of.

To my surprise, Shane sits up and kisses me, his tongue dipping into my mouth and meeting mine. His kiss is desperate and hungry, and the best kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s all I can do to keep up with him.

My hand snakes into his hair, tugging lightly and tangling in the top of it. He sighs into my mouth, pulling back.

He’s moved to sit on the table in front of me, legs spread open and dangling off the edge, hair messed up from my hands and lips glistening. My hands drop to rest on his thighs. The black shorts he has on underneath the skirt reveal nothing, but make the picture somehow sexier.

“You look so hot, Shane. I can’t take my eyes off you.” I tell him, my thumbs stroking along his skin. It’s _too_ soft.

“Yeah, I noticed.” He says, holding eye contact. “We really shouldn’t do this, Ry.”

“You shouldn't have kissed me then.” I say back, and he frowns, nodding.

“I think I should get going.” He says, swinging one leg over my head and dropping off the table. “I’ll see you later.”

I watch him leave, bummed out to say the least. Keeping up with this is a full time job, and all I want is _him_ without the complicated mess we’ve created.

I stay there in the booth, finishing his cocktail and another beer before the bartender yells out last call.

Once again, I find myself texting Shane.

Ryan: you make my life so hard

Ryan: and by life I mean my dick

Shane: Ryan…

Ryan: u like me

Ryan: u once said im charmingly anxious

Shane: yeah, that’s what drew me in

Ryan: come for the anxiety, stay for the lols

Shane: hahahahaha

Ryan: can u come get me pls

Ryan: can’t drive

Shane: I’m in bed.

Shane: I’ll call you an uber

Ryan: good enough. Lmk when its here

* * *

I’m feeling less impulsive when the cool evening air hits me. I can’t yet bring myself to regret texting Shane, but I’m sure I’ll get there soon.

The Uber Shane sent dropped me off at his apartment, which makes sense, since his app would have his home address saved, not mine. I figure the only polite thing to do is run up and let him know I’m okay before going home.

I knock on the door, nervous in a way I really shouldn’t be.

When Shane opens it, he’s dressed in those clingy red satin pajamas that make me see stars. I can’t tear my eyes off his throat, where the button-down shirt fails to cover those sinful collar bones of his. Shane raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t call me on it.

“Thanks- for the, uh, the ride. I’ll send you money?” I say, not sure what the protocol is here.

“Don’t worry about it.” He answers, gesturing for me to come inside. “Sleep here tonight.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I fiddle with my hands awkwardly as I try to figure out what happens now.

“You need anything? Painkiller? Water?” He asks, always the good host. I shake my head.

“Had a bottle on the ride over.”

“A bottle of water or a bottle of painkillers?”

It’s quiet again, Shane looks like he’s waiting for me to acknowledge… something.

Finally, he sighs, leaning against the door.

“What do you want, Ryan?”

It’s a simple enough question, and I answer honestly.

“You – all of you. For a really long time. Fuck, dude, my hands are shaking.” I nervously swipe my sweaty palms against the sleeves of my shirt. Shane is quiet for a long time before finally heading towards his bedroom.

Well… I guess that’s that.

I sit down sadly on the couch, the fog in my brain lifting just when I need it.

It’s not until Shane turns back, seeing me there, that I even dare to take it as an invitation.

“Well, are you coming?” He asks.

I scramble to my feet, following him into his room before he can change his mind. He closes the door behind me, unbuttoning the silky shirt he has on. My brain goes offline.

“There’s a spare set of pjs in the top drawer.” He says quietly, his back to me as he moves some of the extra pillows off his bed. I strip down to boxers, leaving my jewelry on the dresser and clothes on the floor. I find a set of blue and white striped flannel pjs in the drawer he mentioned.

Once the bed was ready for two people to be in it, Shane got in, fingers hovering over the lamp’s cord, waiting for me to join him. I feel the back of my neck prickle when his eyes drop down from my shoulders to my feet and back up.

“I saw that, you just checked me out,” I grinned, climbing up the bed on my hands and knees until I reached him.

“So what if I did.” Shane responds, and I move under the covers as he turns the light off.

“First the sweater at the demon house, and now this? I think you like me wearing your shit.”

“Really, you think? What gave it away.” He smiles at me in the dim light from the window

I’m not avoiding touching him, but I’ve decided to let him set the pace. I’m not exactly surprised when he pulls me across the bed to himself, pressing his body against mine. His skin is cool, as always, and although only he is shirtless, I can feel the heat of my back seeping into his skin to warm him up. His leg wraps around mine, fully anchoring me to him, as if I would want to move away from him.

“Mine.” He growls, his lips not even an inch away from my ear. I feel myself smile, loving every time he gets like this.

I am surprised, though, by the feeling of him hard as a rock against my thigh. I’m also a bit surprised when he presses into me, not trying to hide it at all.

It's kind of odd, I’m the one that’s been drinking, but he’s the shameless one right now.

_“Mine_.” He says again, softer, holding me tighter to get his message across.

I don’t know if he’s waiting for a response, but I give him one anyway.

“All yours.” I say, quiet, like it might break whatever weird spell he’s under. I’m rewarded by him pulling my body even closer, if that’s possible, tucking his face behind my head and locking his fingers around mine.

A few minutes later, I hear him very softly snoring, although I can tell from his grip that he’s not asleep yet. It takes me a second to realize the sound he’s making is closer to a purr, and the idea of Shane _purring_ while cuddling me is almost too much for my fuzzy mind to bear.

This man will be the death of me.

Eventually, he does fall asleep, and only then does the purr stop, quickly replaced by actual snores. That noise is more of what I’m used to hearing my best friend make when we share a room, and more recently, often a bed. The familiarity helps me relax a bit, and I fall asleep shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~possessive shane~ is back and better than ever !


	14. Cuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation. Intervention? Idk. Anyway, remember when I used to post 3x per week? Lol me too. Well, here's a long. fun chapter for your patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Idk how often I can post updates but I'm working on it! Thank you to my loyal readers, you mean the world to me!

When I wake up in the morning, I am surprised at how warm I am.

Considering that Shane is usually so cold, I find it weird that he’s radiating heat now. Maybe it’s like one of those crinkly space blankets that trap heat and turn it back on you.

I turn my head to look at him, his face on the pillow next to me looking peaceful and soft. His arm is draped across my back, fingers twitching slightly. But the longer I look at his face, the more I notice his eyelids fluttering, like he’s keeping them closed. I smirk.

“Don't pretend you're asleep, Shane.” I say, quiet in the still room. His lips quirk upward just slightly.

“Not pretending, trying to go back.” He answers, and I snort. I shift closer to him, tucking my head under his chin. His arms settle back around me. “Didn’t take you for a morning cuddler.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

Eventually, Shane gets up, telling me he’s going to shower.

After checking my emails, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube, redressing and putting my accessories into my pocket, I move out to the living room. I should’ve guessed Shane would take extremely long showers considering how fancy he is in every other aspect of life.

I haven’t spent much time in Shane’s apartment, so while I wait, I look over his bookshelves.

It really shouldn’t be a surprise when I find a whole shelf dedicated to vampire lore. All manner of vampire books are there, from Twilight to Dracula. I notice a few I hadn’t heard of, like _The Vampyre,_ by John Polidori. As I’m reaching to pick it up, the shower turns off, and I quickly move to the couch. I don’t know why I feel like I’m snooping by looking at his books, but it feels wrong somehow, like they’re supposed to be private.

He comes out a few minutes later, with damp hair and wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist. I swallow.

“I’ll be right out, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” He offers as he closes his bedroom door. I nod, even though he can’t see me.

After a minute, I regroup, going into the kitchen to see what food he has. I laugh when I see the bottle of cranberry juice next to a jug of milk.

“What’s so funny?” Shane asks, making me jump.

“Jeez, where did you come from?” I wheeze, closing the fridge and looking at Shane. He’s changed into a white knit sweater and soft shorts, the front edge of the sweater tucked in the front of the waistband. He looks incredibly cozy and I want to crawl back into bed with him.

“Coffee?” He asks, ignoring my question. I shrug.

“If you’re already making it.”

Shane moves around me to start the coffee, and I just kind of watch him. He looks like he’s avoiding me.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I thought last night _was_ us talking about it.”

“Yeah, then we made out and slept together.”

“Did you have plans for today? I was thinking of going out for pho tonight or something. I haven’t seen much of Sara recently and she mentioned wanting to catch up.” Shane changes the subject, not very smoothly. I roll my eyes.

“Is this an invitation to join you or a ‘please get the fuck out’?” I ask.

“A bit of both. Text me and let me know.” He says, effectively telling me to leave.

Since I didn’t bring anything with me, or drive myself, now is as good a time as any to leave. When Shane decides he’s not talking about something, he doesn’t budge.

“Okay, dude. We’re not putting this conversation off forever, though.” I warn, stuffing my feet into my shoes. 

“Watch me.” He says, but adds a wink. Fuck, why is Shane so good at winking.

* * *

Despite the warmth of the invitation, I opt out of pho that night.

True to his word, Shane avoids talking to me pretty much entirely, and we only see each other at work the whole week.

Friday, after work, Buzzfeed has its annual Halloween party. This is… not the weirdest Buzzfeed gets, but it’s at risk of the title once the Try Guys stop wearing lingerie.

I go dressed as Lord Farquaad from Shrek, low budget and cheesy. Most of my friends are dressed as sexy fill-in-the-blank characters or as elaborate jokes.

It’s really no surprise when I run into Shane, who is dressed like his life depends on winning the costume competition. 

“What in the hell are you wearing.” I ask, although it’s pretty obvious what I’m looking at.

“I’m a vampire, Ryan!” Shane exclaims cheerfully around comically bad fangs, and I roll my eyes. He’s wearing every vampire stereotype, from the pale face makeup (not that he needs it), the blood dripping down one side of his mouth, and a dramatic cloak lined with red satin. Including the infuriating almost transparent white blouse-like shirt with big sleeves. It falls distractingly open over his chest.

I hate that I find it extremely sexy.

His fingernails catch my eye, their usual shade of black had been replaced with some subtle color that looks vaguely corpse-like.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, catching one of his hands to look closer. My vampire theory is still on the table, and he did just tell me he is one. 

But I’m relieved to see the nails are indeed painted, not his natural nail shade – although I'm almost more curious about what that looks like than I usually am.

“Aren’t they great? I must’ve watched a dozen tutorials on how to do them, but they finally came out right.” He grins, and I’m having a hard time understanding him talking around the dentures. I run the pad of my thumb over the matte polish, before releasing his hand.

“Yeah, they look great.” I agree. “Shane, I think you have a nail polish problem.”

He looks confused.

“You don’t like that I wear nail polish? That’s pretty messed up, Ryan.”

“No, of course not, I think it's fucking hot.” I blurt out, stumbling on quickly and ignoring the smirk he shoots me. “How often do you paint your nails? They’re always… fresh…” I trail off, not really knowing how to explain myself.

“Of course, they’re fresh, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m a very stylish guy.” He grins, and I take the out he’s offered me.

“Yeah, winning best dressed guy of your 1932 senior class.” I tease, gesturing to his outfit. He gives me a weird look, but it passes too fast for me to figure out what part of that sentence he thought was weird.

“You know it, babey!” He says, his bizarre toothy grin throwing me off again.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, I’m sitting on my bed, opening and shutting my pop socket over and over again. I haven’t spoken to Shane since the party on Friday, and it’s almost worrisome. He’s only talked to me if I start the conversation, and doesn’t continue it if I don’t push.

This is a relationship I’m not going to let slip through my fingers. Shane is my best friend, dammit, this is not how things end between us.

I open my phone and start a text to him. Four or five tries later, I send it.

Ryan: I like you, Shane

Ryan: as a friend and as more than a friend

It doesn’t take long for him to write back. Well, ‘write’ may be the wrong word choice.

Shane: [animated gif]

Ryan: that’s a cat eating noodles

Ryan: I just told you I have a crush on you and you send me a fucking cat video? 

Shane: ;)

I stare at the emoji for way too long, before I finally hit his icon and call him. Two rings, then voicemail. I frown at the screen, then try again. Straight to voicemail.

Are you fucking serious?

Before I have time to think about it, I have two sets of keys in my hand and am in the parking lot walking to my car.

I make a pit stop at the Halloween store, then go to Shane’s apartment.

The lights are on, but the blinds are closed, so I rap on his door, with no response. I pace his hallway for a few minutes, then knock again.

He’s screening my calls, it’s unsurprising that he’s not answering the door either. 

“Shane, I’m coming in, I have a key.” I say loudly as I produce the second set of keys and open his door up. 

He’s sitting on the couch, reading a book, although there’s a bookmark in this one and it’s considerably further back than the page he appears to be reading now. I’m momentarily distracted by the fact that he doesn’t seem to be wearing anything under those satin shorts, coupled with the miles of leg exposed.

“You’re here.” He says, nonchalant.

“Yeah, and fuck you. Why are you ignoring my calls and texts?” I ask. He shrugs.

I wait another beat, but it seems like he’s not planning on saying anything else. I throw up my hands.

“Is this it? This is how four years of friendship ends? I tell you I’m interested in you, you kiss me and we never talk again? Because fuck that, Shane. Fuck that with a capital F.” 

The man himself just looks at me, putting the book down without really paying attention to it. He folds his hands on his lap. 

Now I’m pacing around the room, and clear plastic catches my eye. I look closer at it, unsubtly, then realize it’s lube. It’s too late to pretend I didn’t see it, and I look awkwardly at Shane. 

“I always keep it there, you didn’t see it last time you were here? I know you were snooping.” He says, the first thing in a day that hasn’t been devoid of any tone. I feel a smile almost form.

“Why in the living room?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“It came in a two pack, I don’t need two in my room.” He reasons, and I shake my head.

“You’re such a fuckin weirdo, man.” 

“Okay.”

“I miss you, Shane, and we can’t keep doing this. Even if you don’t care about our relationship anymore, people are going to notice when we’re filming.”

“We’re actors, we’ll figure it out.” He says, tone back to where it was before.

“So you’re breaking up with me? Friendship breakup?” I ask, inexplicably sad. I’m sure he can hear it in my voice, and his Midwestern anti-emotion sensors are going off like crazy. He stands up and goes into the kitchen. I follow him.

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Ryan. Go home.” He says bluntly, sitting down in at the table in front of his laptop.

I grab my purchase from my back pockets, standing behind him and waiting for him to scoot his chair in. He does, and before he can move his hands back up, I have both wrists pinned behind him and cuffed to the back of his chair.

“What the _fuck_ , Ryan?” He asks, looking torn between irritated and amused, twisting backward to watch my face before he decides which emotion to experience.

“You’re not running away from this conversation.” I tell him firmly, sitting in the opposite chair to face him.

“Are you serious?” He asks, voice lowering slightly. He tugs at the cuffs, but his wince tells me they’re holding.

“I am. I’ve been serious.”

“Fine. If we have this conversation, you’ll go home?” He asks. I shrug.

“I was hoping you might let me stay.” I look at his eyes, which meet mine for a second, then look away. “I like you, Shane.” I say again. His lips twitch.

“I know, you’ve said that.”

“Okay, so what about that makes you so uncomfortable that you refuse to talk to me?”

“I don’t know, Ryan, must be the darn Midwesterner in me.” He says, trying to deflect again. I continue to look at him, watching him get more and more squirmy.

He moves in his chair stiffly. I don’t look away, leaning forward to rest my elbow on the table. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” He says, and I raise my eyebrow.

“How am I looking at you?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Just stop it.”

“Then have a real adult conversation with me, Shane.”

“Fine, ask me a question.”

“Do you like me?” I ask.

“No, ask a different question.”

“How do you feel about me?”

“Fuck, Ryan, start with something easy, please? I can’t do this.” He says, tugging on the cuffs again, making the same face.

“Okay, easy question.” I think for a minute. “Why did you keep my jersey?”

“I wanted to wear it.”

“You hate jerseys, and sports.”

“I do.”

“So what made you want to wear it? Because it was mine? Is it because it says ‘Bergara’ on the back?” I ask, and he huffs, flushing slightly.

“Yeah, Ryan, I wanted to wear something with your name on it. You know how I feel about sharing clothes.”

“Okay, that’s another thing. What’s with the clothes? You tell me to wear your clothes, which obviously is some kink or whatever, but you won’t talk about it.”

“Ryan, I need you to understand that all I’m trying to do is keep you in my life. I don’t want to push boundaries and open new doors because historically, that’s a great way to have people leave my life for good. I know I suck at it, but that’s what I’m trying to do.” He says, finally a real emotion from him.

I stay quiet for a breath, just looking at his slightly pink face. He shifts in his chair again under my gaze.

“Thank you for telling me that. And Shane?” I pause until he looks at me. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to be in your life until we’re both six feet under.”

“I want a sky burial, so I won’t be six feet under.”

“Not the point.”

“I know, sorry.”

“Can you be honest about how you feel about me? If you’re not interested, you just have to say so and I’ll back off. But no more of this non-answer bullshit.”

“How could you edit any footage of us and believe that I’m not interested in you, Ryan? You’re so smart, you can’t possibly think I’m not _really_ into you. For fuck’s sake, I travel the country with you to go to disgusting places to look for something that doesn’t exist.”

“That’s true.” I say, then smile. “Must be really embarrassing for you to be so whipped.” I tease, and he looks a little relieved.

“It all started with that goddamn P90X video, it has a million views from me alone on my burner.” He jokes, and I roll my eyes. Now seems like a good time to tease him a bit, give him a break from Expressing Emotions, so I lean back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head to show off my biceps. I smirk as his eyes travel to them and he moves around in his seat again, apparently forgetting he’s cuffed.

“Fuck, ow.” He complains, scowling at me. I laugh, flexing my muscles once before lowering my arms to cross across my chest, another flex.

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt.” I suggest. “What were you doing when I got here?” I ask on a whim.

“Reading.” He answers, unconvincingly.

“Reading about what? I saw your bookmark, it was way off.”

“Okay, not reading.” He shrugs, not looking at me.

“Jerking off?” I ask, my eyebrows lifting and a smirk on my face. He lowers his face even more, so all I can see are his nose and ears.

“Close.”

“Oh my god, Shane. Do you have… something inside you right now? Is that why there’s lube in your living room?” I ask, incredulous and a little aroused.

“I swear, Ryan, I will kill you.” He threatens under his breath. I sit in front of him again.

“What were you thinking about?” I ask, not really expecting an answer, but not too surprised when he says

“You. Wearing my fucking goddamn sweater in the demon house. Fuck, that turned me on so much.” He whispers, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He’s definitely not wearing anything under those shorts.

“Tell me more.” I say, leaning closer. He groans, and my dick definitely liked that.

“That’s all I could think about all night. I couldn’t sleep, because I knew you were going to take it off in the morning and I didn’t have a reason for you to wear anything else of mine. Fuck, Ryan, I just wanted you.”

“I’d gladly wear anything you wanted me to.” I admit, and his eyes meet mine, looking ravenous.

“That’s uh… good to know.” He clears his throat, squirming again in his chair.

“So to confirm, you do have a dildo up your ass right now.” I say, a little impressed and very turned on.

“Not a dildo.” He says, shifting again.

“Not a dildo?”

“Beads, anal beads.” He says, closing his eyes again.

“That’s really fucking hot.”

“Please just touch me, Ryan.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere, goddammit, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me. I just need to be touched.”

I move closer, hesitantly touching his shoulders – fairly neutral, easy start – and moving down his chest. He lets out a heavy breath, shifting his ass again and biting his lip in response. My hands reach his waist, and I slip my thumbs into his waistband, getting a sigh in response.

“Ryan-” He whines, pushing his hips up, soft desperate noises leaving his throat as I brush the tip with one thumb. “Fuck, please-” He says, and I could easily get addicted to this feeling.

I grab his dick, gentle but firm, and his head drops back. I give it a squeeze, and his chest heaves with every breath.

“I was so close when you barged in, I wanted to just say fuck it and keep going with you watching.” He says, and I press my lips together. I tug his shorts down his hips, and he lifts his ass so I can shove them to the floor.

His legs drop open, and I see a black ring between his ass cheeks.

“Can I-” I start, but he nods before I finish. I tug on the ring, brushing my thumb over his rim as he shudders. One bead pops out, and my eyes widen at the size. I push it back in, pausing at the widest part to lean in and lick at it.

The noise Shane makes will haunt my dreams, waking and sleeping.

I remember his reaction at the bar with the body shot, so I lick his inner thigh, sucking a mark high up. He whines again, a desperate sound, and I bite down a little lower, low enough that wearing those shorts, the mark is visible. He seems to realize this too, and evidently likes the idea.

Hickeys I can do, grabbing a dick I can do, but everything else is very new to me, and I’m at a loss of how to proceed.

“Pull the beads out.” Shane says, hips thrusting into the hand that’s still loosely holding his dick.

I grab the loop again, pulling out slowly, until one by one, the beads pop out of him. Shane’s mouth drops open and he thrusts a few more times before he comes all over his chest.

Mesmerized, I pull the last bead out too fast, and Shane jolts.

“Sorry, sorry-” I say, backing up with a string of slick beads in one hand and my best friend’s softening cock in the other.

“Oh my god, there’s no way I’m letting the birds eat my corpse without you doing all that again.” Shane says, voice hoarse and covered in his own cum.

I call that a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory 'leave me a review,' but genuinely, please let me know if you guys are still reading this and interested to see the end of this! We're getting there, I promise, and there are lots of Shenanigans along the way (shane-anigans?)


	15. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Shane talk things out (more)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for a few clues this chapter.............

I end up with a come-covered hand and the other is holding a slick string of beads. I look at Shane, who doesn't seem to appreciate the comedy of the situation.

“Uh.. if you uncuff me, I’ll take care of that.”

“I’m not uncuffing you yet, I’m not done talking to you.” I protest.

“Okay fine, then put the beads in the bathtub I guess, I’ll clean them later.” He concedes. I get up and head into his room.

Although I've only been in here once, maybe twice, I can tell Shane has been neglecting it. He's not the most organized to begin with, but he's always clean. There are socks and shoes strewn around like he hasn't cleaned up in awhile. 

That aside, from the looks of it, Shane really was thinking of that time with the sweater, because it lays in a pile on the end of his bed. 

I get an idea, quickly dispose of the beads and wash my hands, and pull the sweater on. As a professional courtesy, I also grab a washcloth and get it wet to clean Shane up. 

When I head back out to the kitchen, I notice Shane sniff and drop his head down with a tiny, almost inaudible moan. Somehow, he knows what I’m wearing even before seeing me.

“Ryan, I just came, can’t you show a little mercy?” He whines, and when I’m finally in view again, he starts pulling at the cuffs again.

“How did you know I had it on?” I ask, swiping the cum from his chest with the cloth and settling myself between his thighs again. 

“Intuition?” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes. He makes a noise as I gently wipe off his dick. 

“This what you were daydreaming about?” I tease, kicking my shoes off to get comfortable. 

Shane nods, shifting again in his chair. I have a little mercy on him and pull his shorts back up his thighs, letting him sort of preserve some modesty while we talk.

“If dressing in your shit is all it takes to get real emotions out of you, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” I say, sitting back down in the chair facing him. He sighs.

“What else did you want to talk about?” He asks. I get serious again, leaning against the table.

"I'm not trying to force you to be in a relationship with me, I just want you to be honest with me. If all we are is best friends, that's enough. More than." I tell him. His lips quirk up.

"I think we're past this, Ryan. I definitely want to... to be... to have something with you. A relation... dating. Date you. If that's what you want too." He says, awkwardly, face pink and not meeting my eyes now. I shake my head with a smile. 

"Dating is good. I'd like that." I agree, bumping his knee with mine. “So you know I’m not out to my parents, and definitely not publicly, right?” I ask, eyeing him for a reaction.

“I figured as much. I’m not going to pressure you to be out. I don't mind keeping us on the DL indefinitely.” He promises, linking his foot with mine on the floor. I feel myself relax a little.

“I do plan to, but I’m waiting for it to feel right. Soon though.” I tell him. He nods. 

“Anything else?” He prompts when I’m quiet. 

“No, I don’t think so, that’s pretty much it.” 

“Can you uncuff me then? I can feel my wrists bruising.”

“Oh right, sure.” I say, hastily getting up and pulling out the key. I unlock the cuffs and he stretches his arms around a little. 

"I don't see why that was necessary." He grumbles, and I give him an incredulous look. 

"You don't see- Shane, this is the first time we've had a genuine heart-to-heart conversation ever, you really don't think there was a good reason to make you stay put so you couldn't run away?" 

"Okay, I guess that's fair."

And with that, all was right in the world. 

It's only at 5:30 the next day as we're leaving the office that I notice Shane's wrists have no sign of bruising, despite the prominent red marks there yesterday evening. I frown, filing the observation away in my head.

* * *

Despite our agreement to 'start dating,' we don't have much opportunity with the new season film schedule coming up. We're both often working late, getting the research done, polishing scripts or set-dressing. We still do movie nights when we can, but after long days of work and nights of filming, it's a struggle to stay awake through the first half of the movie.

Although we're filming True Crime, there are a couple on-location shoots, mostly for B-roll. Shane has started bringing a second set of his fancy-ass pjs to our location shoots, usually the blue and white ones, dropping them on my side of the bed without a word, just a look that I can't ignore. Damn those big, sad brown eyes. After he does this a few times, I just stop packing pjs altogether.

Whenever I put them on, he almost always takes a moment to look at me, often wrapping his arms around me and we just stand there, hugging. He told me once that he likes when I smell like him, which reminded me of what he'd said at the demon house. I can't say I mind this particular kink.

* * *

"Do you remember when you handcuffed me to my kitchen chair?" Shane asks out of the blue. Like that night, we're at his apartment again, but this time casually watching a movie at the end of another long week instead of intensely talking about our feelings. 

He is lounging at one end of the couch, long, smooth legs stretching across the seat and onto my lap where I sit at the other end of the couch. The shorts he's wearing look silky and soft, but I haven't mustered up the courage to touch them to see.

Like the last time we sat like this, I'm absently caressing his ankles, feeling how his cool skin warms up after being on my lap for awhile. That aspect of Shane's body is still a bit strange to me, but Shane had mentioned that long limbs are usually cold because circulation isn't great. I choose to believe that, at least for now. 

I'm more focused on Shane than the movie, only looking at the screen so he doesn't ask me why I'm staring at him.

"Yeah, that night was a little hard to forget and also just a few weeks ago. What about it?" I ask.

"You said you'd wear anything I asked you to. Did you mean it?" 

"I mean..." I hesitate, sensing a trap. "Within reason, I guess. I'm not walking out of here dressed like Lady Gaga if that's what you're getting at."

"So then, inside here, anything goes?" He counters, and I shrug. 

"Yeah, I guess. Why?" I can hear the apprehension in my voice and I know Shane can too.

"I had an outfit idea for you." He begins, eyeing me as I keep my gaze focused on the TV. "It's a bit different from what you usually wear." He warns. I swallow. 

"Okay, I'm game. Pull it out and I'll put it on." I promise, lifting my hands from his ankles to let him get up.

"Give me a couple minutes." He says, jumping up and going to his bedroom.

Why do I have a weird feeling about this...

* * *

As it turns out, it could've been a lot worse. Well, not necessarily _worse,_ just scarier. Especially considering some of the items Shane owns, it could've been a lot scarier.

Shane left me in his room to change, and a neatly set out pile of clothes stare me in the face.

It's just shorts and a cropped shirt, but I can imagine how they're going to fit. The shirt is a short striped rugby shirt with a collar. the sleeves look a little long but not overly so. The shorts are black denim, but tight and _so short._ I'm concerned whether or not they'll fit over my ass at all. 

Last additions are black fishnets and black boots, which are definitely not my size. With a deep breath, I strip down and start changing.

It's just Shane, he dresses unconventionally all the time. He'll be nice if I look stupid. So why am I so nervous?

The shorts do fit, barely, and the waist goes up to just under my ribs. There's really only a couple inches of exposed skin under the crop top, which is shockingly comfortable. I can't wear the boots, since I look like a clown with them on, so I pad over to the bathroom mirror to take a look at myself. 

Damn. I look hot. 

I ruffle my hair a little and adjust the collar, but really, the outfit is doing the work for me. I look great. I grin at my reflection, twisting to look at my ass and legs in the shorts. Contrary to what we always say, I'm not a short person, just short in comparison. My legs look longer than usual in this outfit, and if that's the effect short shorts have, I may need to get myself some.

The shorts-shirt combo give me the illusion of a waist, though slight, and even though they're definitely women's clothes, they don't look overtly feminine on me. The overall impression makes me reconsider the way I dress and make me wonder if I could go out dressed like this without melting into a puddle of anxiety. 

Jury's still out on that one, but maybe I can get there.

When I head back out to the living room, I'm hit with a second wave of nerves which I can't understand. 

Thankfully, the feeling goes away completely when Shane sees me.

"Holy mother of fuck." He whispers, licking his lips. "I mean, I knew you'd look good, but I didn't-" He trails off. I smile, opening my arms and turning around so he can get the full impact. 

"I might keep these shorts, they make my ass look amazing." I warn him, and he laughs once, hoarsely. 

"Yeah, go ahead, I have more. They look better on you." 

I walk over to him and kneel over his lap on the couch, settling into him. One advantage of our height difference is that sitting like this, we're basically eye-to-eye. 

"I may let you do this more often." I tell him quietly, resting my arms on his shoulders. His hands barely rest on my thighs.

"Do what?"

"Pick out something for me to wear. It's... it's fun." I say, giving him a small smile. He smiles back. Despite being the only ones in the apartment, it still feels weird to speak above a whisper.

"I'd be happy to. You can pick stuff too, whatever might fit you that I have." 

"Thanks." I say, leaning into him more. 

We haven't kissed since the bar that one night, when he initiated it. I realize he might be waiting on me.

We're close enough that I could easily press my lips to his, but far enough that he could pull away if he wanted. He doesn't seem to want to.

I dip my head and close my eyes, meeting him in the middle. His hands on my thighs grip tighter, and I pull his neck closer to me. It's not a messy kiss, at least not yet, but it is passionate. _Steamy_ might be an appropriate word for it.

His tongue, cool, like the rest of his body, runs gently along my lower lip, just a tease. I pull him closer still and meet his tongue with mine. It's a strange sensation, the coolness of his mouth, but it's one I could get used to.

We get lost in the kissing, not really moving further. Eventually, he pulls back.

"Ryan-" He sighs, dipping his head into the crook of my neck. 

"Yeah," I answer, just as breathy. 

" _Fuck._ " He answers, and I huff a laugh out. 

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on wrapping this up before Christmas, maybe even before Thanksgiving :))) I'm so excited for you guys to read the ending, it's almost all written and I'm probably going to post a bit more regularly, or at least try. Make sure you subscribe to this story to get a notification when I update! Also, leave a review with your thoughts, it helps motivate me to update faster!


	16. First Date Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane And Ryan Have Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. my. god. monster chapter !  
> Almost 5,000 words, and almost all of it is that cutesy shit.

“Ryan?” I hear Shane’s voice behind me as I unlock the car and open the trunk. We’re shooting on location again, but just for B-roll this time. He walks up as I lift the camera case into the back.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“This is our last location this season.” He says, leaning _casually_ against the side of the car. I frown, tilting my head to the side.

“Yeah, what about it?” I ask.

“We’ll probably be a lot less busy after this, since it’s just set filming and editing. Things are calming down a bit.” He shrugs, looking down where his feet shuffle in the gravel of the parking lot. I wait for him to continue, but he looks back up at me, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for me to say something back.

“Okay, so…?” I prompt. He sighs, looking up.

The night sky is clear. We’re out in the middle of somewhere, the lights dim and crickets loud. A fitting accompaniment to this conversation. I can see the stars. Shane went on for almost 40 minutes once about the different constellations during a break on one of our shoots, but I can barely remember anything he said. Present day Shane clears his throat.

“So, we’ll have more time to spend together…” He says. I guess he’s done talking again, so I try to decipher what he’s getting at.

“Is this your uncomfortable Midwestern way of asking me on a date?”

“A date, yeah, yes- only if you want to, I mean, I know it’s been awhile since we talked about it-” He responds, raising his hands a little. I roll my eyes.

“Yes, you dramatic beanpole, I’ll go on a date with you.” I smile fondly at him, which seems to help him relax. He smiles back, and in the dark his eyes squint up into dark crescent shapes with little lines on the corners. It’s adorable.

“Tomorrow at 6:15, my place?” He says, like this is already planned. I grin.

“I’ll be there. I’m not dressing up, though, wear something comfortable.” I warn, knowing his habit of dressing up given any excuse.

“Okay, fine. I’ll save the outfit I was planning for another time.” He mumbles, eyebrows lifting slightly, but I nudge him with my shoulder.

“I’m looking forward to it, Big Guy.” 

* * *

As planned, I knocked on Shane’s apartment door at 6:15pm. My stomach is churning with nervousness, even though this is _Shane_ , my best friend in the world.

A few seconds after I knocked, Shane opened it, and I automatically looked him up and down.

“Shane, what are you wearing?” I ask, which seems to be a common question for me.

“Date night in outfit! Why, too much?” He asks, looking almost as nervous as me. Shane is, well, for _him,_ he’s dressed down, like I said he should. For anyone else, his outfit is a bit over the top.

He’s in white fishnet stockings over those long, _long_ legs, and his ass barely covered by a pale pink sweatshirt. One glance at his mouth and I realize he has some lip gloss on too. Thankfully, his feet are in slippers, the only casual thing about this ensemble.

“You can’t just _wear that_ when I’m trying to treat you right on our first actual date, You’re trying to sabotage me.” I protest, running a hand through my hair. There’s a glint in his eye and he answers.

“And what if I am?” He says, leaning towards me slightly.

“Okay, okay, at least let me get inside.” I say, squeezing past him into the apartment. He shuts the door behind me, and I put my backpack down.

As I turn around, I’m startled by Shane shoving me against the door, leaning into my space and kissing me. I suck in a breath sharply, and Shane must take this as a protest, because he pulls back.

“I’m sorry-” He begins, but I grab him by the back of the neck and pull him back in. He makes a sound against my lips, then moves down my jaw to kiss my neck. I can’t help the sigh that leaves my mouth when he bites down.

“Fuck, Shane, this is what you meant by taking things slowly?” I tease, but my hands find their way to his ass covered in the soft sweatshirt and I doubt he thinks I mean anything by it.

To my surprise, within seconds, Shane has dropped to the floor, sitting on his heels and somehow my jeans are open. He presses his face against the bulge in my underwear, and my head thumps hard against the door behind me as I groan.

“Ryan, you’re so hard.” Shane whines, pushing my jeans down my legs. I don’t have the wherewithal to respond before he’s mouthing my cock through my boxers. I tangle my fingers in his hair. His teeth nip at the skin of my belly, and I’m panting.

I help him shove my boxers off my ass and down my legs, desperate for whatever he wants to do to me.

“Fuck, Shane-” I sigh, pressing my fist against my mouth to smother the noises I feel like making.

“Can I please suck you off?” Shane asks, big brown eyes looking up at me with desire reflected in them. I huff.

“You have my standing consent to suck me off anytime.” I promise, almost laughing.

Shane isn’t laughing, instead tonguing my balls and gripping my cock. He works his way up the shaft, then downs nearly all of it in one go. I almost shout in shock, the wet coolness of his mouth taking me off guard. I struggle to breathe as his throat pulses around me.

He pulls off slightly to take a breath, then moves back down, doing something complicated with his tongue that almost makes me cum right then and there.

“Fuck!”

Shane moans in response, cupping my balls with his long, cold fingers. His other hand reaches around to grab at my ass, and I lean my whole weight against the door.

When I’d thought about this evening, I wanted everything to be a cute ‘first date.’ We’ve been friends for so long, it felt important to have a distinct start to our relationship. My mistake there was not realizing we’d started our relationship a long time ago.

I’d planned on a chaste kiss at the end of our little date. Present Ryan scoffed at former Ryan’s attempt to plan anything on a date I’d been invited on.

As I thought this, Shane had slipped his hand up his sweatshirt’s edge and was palming himself. I cursed the thick material that didn’t let me see what he was doing.

His mouth bobbed up and down my cock as I fought the urge to thrust into him, mostly successfully. My fingers tightened in his hair.

“Shane, I’m gonna-” I warn, unable to hold it off anymore. I felt my knees give out as I came. Shane licked and swallowed all of my cum, humming in satisfaction as I tried to catch my breath.

“Fuck, Shane, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum from head.” I tell him honestly. Shane grins.

“I’ve been told I’m good.” He says as he tucks me back into my underwear. I pull my pants back up.

“So, was this a real date, or just a booty call then?” I tease, regaining feeling in my feet and breathing normally again. Shane smirks.

“Oh, it’s a real date, alright. May I take your coat?” He offers, standing up and holding out a hand. I squint at him.

“I’m not wearing a coat...?”

“Your shirt then.” He says, not missing a beat. I roll my eyes.

“I prefer to eat dinner with my shirt on. But,” I hold up a finger. “I could be persuaded to take it off later if the mood demands.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He says, turning around to head into his little dining room. I follow.

The table is set with actual dishes, and a big candle in the middle flickering brightly. There are cloth napkins at both spots. I smile at the sight.

Shane serves us both, spaghetti, meatballs and a fancy green salad. I take one bite and decide right there that I have to marry Shane no matter what.

“This is fucking good spaghetti, Shane.” I say, scooping up more. It’s hard to tell in the dim lights, but I’m pretty sure Shane blushed at that, looking down at his plate and mumbling something I couldn’t catch with a little smile.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, smiling wider. He’s fucking cute when he’s nervous. I rarely get to see it on him, and I fully intend to milk this while it lasts. He clears his throat.

“I said I use lots of garlic.” He says, then a grin twitches at the corner of his mouth. “It burns on the way down, since as we both know, I am a vampire, but I’d say it’s worth it.” He says, so blandly that I have to take a second to react.

“Okay, okay. I had that coming.” I say, taking a drink of the wine. “Good wine too, I can’t say the last time I had any.”

“Beergara can’t be stopped, but looks like he can be tamed.” Shane teases. I shake my head, but the smile won’t leave my face, only getting wider every time I look across the table at him.

To my surprise, Shane also made dessert, bringing it from the oven on a fancy dish I would never have guessed that he owned.

“Fuck, dude, what’s this?” I wipe my face on the fancy napkin and wish that I’d gone a little easier on the pasta.

“These are gingerbread cookies, my mom and I used to make them when I was a kid. It’s an old Polish recipe. Our uh… our area of Chicago was hit pretty hard with a… a recession. Like right before I was born. So by the time I was old enough to remember, things were better. Mom was able to make desserts like this again without having to save up for ingredients.” He explains, and I just blink at him.

“Thank you for making these for me. That’s really special.” I smile, why do I feel my eyes tearing up?

“You’d better like them, they take over three days for the dough to be ready to bake.” He jokes, his aversion to emotion coming back.

I process what he said.

“Three days? How long have you been planning this date?” I ask, realizing that three days ago, we were in the throes of filming. I’d barely gotten enough sleep as is, and I bought every meal at a restaurant. Shane followed the exact same schedule, but apparently was also baking? For me?

“I uh, forget I said that-” Shane backtracks, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at me with wide eyes. “Try one.”

I let it go, feeling a little bit like an asshole just for not taking this as seriously as Shane is. Fuck, I told him not to dress up…

I take a cookie off the dish and take a bite. I let my eyes close, finishing the rest of it quickly.

When I open my eyes again, Shane has his chin resting on one hand, lip caught between his teeth.

“Shane, you made these?” I ask. His eyebrows dip for a fraction of a second. He thinks I don’t like them.

“Yeah, I know my mom’s are better-” He begins, but I cut him off.

“No no no, that’s not possible. I’ve never eaten a better cookie in my life and I’m not joking.” I say, seriously. His lips twitch, but he pushes the smile down, eyebrows lifting slightly. Shane’s facial expressions are an easy way to tell what he’s thinking once you understand them.

“Oh, thanks, Ry.” He says softly, and I grab his hand across the table.

“This,” I gesture to the table, then the rest of the room. “This is incredible, Shane. I’m blown away and I feel so lucky to be here with you.” I say honestly, squeezing his fingers. He squeezes back.

“I’m glad.” He says, but he doesn’t need to say more.

* * *

I end up staying the night, although nothing else sexy happens. I offer, but he just wants to curl up together and sleep. I can’t blame him, the amount of work he’s put into the date must’ve taken its toll.

We have the next day off, and spend most of the morning just sleeping. I wake up around noon to the light filtering in through his curtains.

Shane is sprawled out half on top of me. His fancy pj shirt has shifted up in his sleep and I get the urge to run my fingers up and down his pale, cool skin. So I do.

He doesn’t stir for awhile, and when he does, he just blinks at me through slitted eyes, then closes them again to snooze for another half hour.

It’s afternoon by the time we get up, and even given how much I such at cooking in my own kitchen, I make us some eggs so Shane can eat without having to work. He smiles sweetly at me when I set the plate in front of him. I give him a kiss, because I can.

He showers first, and by the time I’m done with my own shower, he’s sitting in the living room looking at his phone.

He’s wearing the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen him in, almost translucent white with a matching pj shirt. It’s very distracting. I smile, lifting his feet and sitting down under them. He looks up.

“Are those the booty shorts you own?” I ask, rubbing the edge between my fingers. Silky, thin and short, a perfect combination. He laughs.

“These? Nah, I own much shorter shorts than these.” _Aren’t those just underwear?_ “These are pretty tame.” He says, looking down at them. I raise my eyebrows, but don’t say anything else.

It’s a quiet afternoon, the sun warming the room through the window. Shane eventually makes a pot of coffee, and while he’s doing that, I look through his bookshelves again.

“Have you read all these?” I ask, gesturing to them when he comes back. He stands next to me, looking at them.

“Most of them. This shelf is my to-read, the rest I’ve read.” He says, and I look through the titles he hasn’t read.

“Louis Le Prince, I know that name.” I say, picking it up. I remember this guy from some film class, it comes back to me as I skim the dust jacket synopsis. “You know, this might be a good story for for True Crime.”

“Read it aloud, I haven’t started it yet.” He says, moving back to the couch and settling down.

I join him, getting comfortable with his legs curled up over my lap. I rest my hand on his ankle, opening the book and starting the first chapter. Shane stops me one sentence in.

“No, you have to read this in your theory voice.” He says with a grin. I laugh, shaking my head.

“Okay fine, but I’m warning you now that it gets obnoxious pretty quick.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

So I do, noticing when Shane goes from paying attention to zoning out to dozing off. I don’t wake him up, continuing to read even when he starts snoring quietly.

* * *

Shane wakes up again around 6, and we eat sandwiches for dinner. I help him clean the kitchen, then we watch a couple episodes of Parks and Rec, then I move to get up.

“Where are you going? You’re supposed to keep my feet warm.” Shane protests, tucking said feet under a pillow when I stand.

“I have to go to the gym, but I’ll come back here after if you like.” I say, stretching. It’s already almost 9, and I promised myself I’d be back today since I’d missed several weeks while we filmed.

“Today?” He asks, looking like he’s on the verge of a genuine pout.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.” I try to reassure him, but he still doesn’t look happy.

“Just skip it for the day. Make up for it tomorrow or something.” He suggests.

“That’s not how muscle-building works.” I laugh. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it considering what a big fan of my arms you are.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” He says, looking away and getting a faint pink tinge in his ears.

“Oh, come on, man, I’ve seen you checking them out for years now. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I’m denying it.” He says, getting up with his coffee mug and walking to the kitchen. I follow him, leaning against the counter as he refills his mug and turns back to me. He takes a sip.

“Then this does nothing for you?” I ask, rolling the sleeves of my tshirt up my arms and lifting my hands behind my head, flexing. I _know_ Shane has watched closely every time I do this. Shane blinks a few times, his grip on the mug handle vice-like.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, voice a higher pitch than normal.

I smirk.

“Okay, Big Guy, how about this?” I ask, moving closer to him, setting his coffee mug down. I grab his wrists and move him backwards against the wall. He hits it with a dull _thunk_ , and moves slightly to test my grip, which holds. His eyes meet mine, pupils dilated almost comically wide. His eyelids droop a little as I push my hips into his, and then flutter back open like he forgot he’s pretending to be unaffected. They focus back on me. 

“Pushy.” He whispers, breath fanning over my face. I raise my eyebrows. He isn’t even trying to hide his obvious arousal except for the words he’s using.

“Alright, I guess I’m wrong, then.” I say, taking a step back and releasing him. He shuffles back to his mug so he’s standing in front of the kitchen counter, and I grin.

“Yeah, you are wrong. Let me live my happy pansexual life, Ryan.” He says, which makes zero sense, but I can’t really blame him, given how much blood is _not_ currently flowing to his giant head.

Instead of responding, I move back in, grabbing his hips and lifting him up to sit on the counter. It’s not easy, and I have to strain a bit, but it’s worth it to watch his mouth drop open and eyes grow wide. His hands grab for my shoulders as he’s put off balance. I drag my hands down from his waist to his thighs, gently nudging them outward to make space for me in between them. 

Shane is flushed and panting a little, which I really want to laugh at as I look up at his face. He tips his head back against the cabinet.

“Careful, buddy, you’ll catch flies.” I warn, tipping his jaw closed with one finger. I smile as I watch him stare at me for another few seconds before speaking.

“Fuck, warn a guy, would ya?” He says, voice a bit hoarse. “I fold, you’re strong and it’s sexy.” He says, and I pat his thighs.

“I love when you tell me I’m right.”

“Kinky.” Shane says.

I quickly decide that the gym can go fuck itself.

Bending down, I press my lips and nose against his bulge, nuzzling it in a way I’m sure is infuriatingly gentle. Shane whines, then moans, hands twisting into my hair as he tries to pull my face closer. 

“I don’t think I can just leave you here like this. After all, it is my fault.” I tell him, still mouthing at him through the thin shorts.

Shane sighs shakily and his hips thrust forward like he’s not really thinking about the motion. 

“Fuck you.” He moans, fingers tugging on my hair to keep me pressed against him.

“Fuck me yourself, coward.” I retort, nipping his belly as I work his shorts down his hips. He lifts himself off the counter slightly to help me get them off, and the fall to the floor.

Granted, I’m not well versed in the art of the blowjob, but I’ve been on the receiving end enough to know what not to do.

Plus, judging by the sounds he’s making, Shane doesn’t mind my inexperience too much.

It’s quick work to get Shane there, but I panic when he tells me he’s about to finish. I don’t move away quick enough, and he shoots cum down my throat. I swallow instinctively.

“Fuck, you swallow?” He asks, panting. I shrug.

“I guess so.”

I carry Shane back to the couch, although he whines a little when I pick him up. I take it as a good sign.

We cuddle for a bit as Shane catches his breath. I decide quickly that I’m not a big fan of the taste of come, drinking some of Shane’s coffee to get the taste out of my mouth.

Now it’s getting late, and we have work in the morning, so I move to stand up. Shane grabs my arm to keep me in place.

“Don't get up.” His voice alone has me buzzing with energy, it’s soft and sleepy and just sexy enough. I could listen to it all day.

“We have work in the morning.” I offer a weak objection, stroking my fingers along his bare arm. He shifts closer.

“Sleep here. I'm comfortable like this.” He whispers, nipping at my ear. I really don’t mind.

“On the couch?” I tease, pulling away now so I can scoop him up off the couch and carry him to his room. Once I’m standing and holding him securely, I feel more than hear his moan against my neck.

“You’re _so strong_.”

“I know. It’s just for you.” I tease, using his feet to push open the door. “Gotta be able to carry your long ass body around when you fall asleep on me.”

I lay him down on the bed, and he immediately curls up on his side. I laugh reflexively, but it’s by far the cutest thing I’ve seen, and I want to look at him forever.

I automatically put on my pj set, the blue and white flannel, and when Shane sees me through a cracked eye, he just whines softly, a noise I’ve come to understand as appreciation. I smile.

“Like what you see?” I lay down on my side facing him, pulling the covers over us and wrapping my arms around him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

“Shh. I just want to fall asleep with you. You're warm.”

“You're so cute when you're sleepy.” I say, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

His hair tickles my nose.

“I know.” He says, and I smile.

By the time I feel it coming, it’s too late for a warning. I let out the loudest monster sneeze I’ve ever witnessed. Shane practically launches himself out of the bed in surprise, landing on the floor with an oof. I start laughing loudly.

I stop laughing when I hear a new Shane sound – a snarl. I look at him where he’s getting up from the floor, and he makes the noise again, definitely a snarl. I barely have time to register it when he leaps back onto the bed, pinning me down and staring straight into my eyes. Shock makes me freeze up.

“ _Fuck_ you.” He says, face serious but voice betraying him. A smile creeps back onto my lips.

“You snarled at me.” I point out, and he presses me deeper into the mattress, snarling again in confirmation.

“You sneezed in my face.” He shoots back.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry about that.”

“Get out of my bed.” He says, but I look pointedly at his hands clamped around each wrist.

“Can’t.”

“Good. Fuck you, go to sleep.”

He releases me, bravado deflating, rolling onto his side and facing away from me.

Pouting.

“Oh my god, you baby.” I say, rolling my eyes as I grab for his waist. I know how much he likes being manhandled, so when I pull him over easily and he doesn’t make one of his noises, I realize he actually might be mad at me. “Are you upset? I’m sorry-” I start, but he doesn’t respond, just lying there facing away with my arm loosely wrapped around his waist. I sit up a little, trying to look at his face where it's pressed into the pillow, but he won’t turn around.

“Shane?”

He waits a while before answering.

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“The noises I make. All of them.” He clarifies, and I frown.

“No, I love them. Why would you ask-”

“A lot of people don’t like it.”

“Fuck them, then. I love all your little sounds and I try really hard to get you to make them.” I admit, scooting closer and holding him tighter. I can feel him starting to relax, but he still won’t look at me. “Seriously, fuck them. They’re wrong, every noise you make is adorable and I treasure them.”

That seems to help, and he’s more relaxed now as he rolls back over into my arms, the same position we were in earlier.

“And I’m really sorry for sneezing.”

Shane only blows extra air out his nose in response, a nearly soundless little huff, the lack of a small hum or snort making me feel bad for mentioning the snarl earlier.

I feel bad enough that I bring it up when we get ready for work in the morning.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about the snarl last night.” I say it quietly, but Shane still looks like I’ve upset him again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says automatically, turning to put our breakfast dishes in the sink, conveniently avoiding my eye.

“No, really. I don’t want you to feel bad. It surprised me a little because I’ve never had a person snarl at me before, but I think it’s cute.”

“That’s because _people_ don’t snarl at each other.” He mumbles, and I almost don’t hear him.

“What? Why did you say people like that? We established you’re a human person, didn’t we?” I ask, trying to get him to smile about the whole goddamn demon debacle we had a few months ago. He doesn’t smile, and when he looks at me, I regret everything I’ve said in the last 6 hours.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Ryan, not right now, okay? If you still think I’m a demon, well, you want to have sex with me, so I guess that makes you a monster fucker or something.” It sounds so tired and dry, and I scramble in my head trying to figure out how the hell I can make him feel better before we leave. I'm not letting this bullshit carry over into the office.

“I’m sorry, poorly timed stupid joke on my part. I don’t think you’re a monster. What can I do to make you feel better?” I ask, stepping closer to gently touch his arms. Touch usually makes him feel better.

“I just don’t want to keep talking about this.”

“Done. Can I give you a kiss?” I offer, standing on my toes to look him in the eyes.

He sighs softly, nodding. I try to show him how sorry I feel, holding his stiff body close and kissing him gently.

It helps a little, if his posture is anything to go by. His shoulders slump back down to where they normally sag, stiffness gone or at least lessened. I give him the warmest smile I can, press one more kiss to his lips and step back.

“I need to go get clothes.” I tell him, retrieving my keys from their place on his hook and putting my shoes on. “I’ll meet you at the office?”

He nods, starting to rinse our dishes and looking remarkably happier than when he’d woken up.

“Hey, hey.” I say, waiting for him to look at me. I smile. “You’re the best.” I wink, a poor attempt which I can see from his reaction, and blow him a kiss. He smiles, though, and that is enough success for me to head out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, you are an incredible human and delight me. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I think there will be two more monster chapters, then we'll be at the end! Please let me know what you think, whether or not you're buying human-person Shane :))


	17. Everything Goes To Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Goes To Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my favorite chapter, but it's important to the Plot (what plot? idk). This is the second to last chapter (at least planned to be, who knows), so All will be revealed shortly! Please enjoy, have a wonderful Colonizer's Day and leave a comment!

Shane and I have a bad habit of staying late at work to edit. Usually, the one leaving makes an excuse to stay around for a bit, but now that we’re an item, we can just say we want to stay.

This is what happens on a Thursday, Shane and I were among the last people in the office.

“You can go, you don’t have to stay just because I’m here.” I tell him, but he just makes himself comfortable sitting with his back against the armrest of the couch.

“I’ll stay.” He says, looking at his phone. I smile, slipping my headphones back over my ears and getting back to work. The sooner I have this done, the sooner we can both go home.

We’re quiet for awhile, and Shane eventually slips down to rest his head on the armrest, tucking his feet under my thigh.

While we’re not out to the office, there’s so few people left that I feel fine about cuddling a little.

Plus, he’s just so cute like this.

I’m just wrapping up the video when Steven Lim finds us, Shane dozing and curled up next to me.

“Uh, hey Ryan.” He starts, casting a concerned glance at Shane. He shakes his head a little in a ‘none of my business’ way, looking back at me. “I thought you were here.”

“Yeah, just getting ready to leave.” I say, saving the edits and unplugging my headphones. “What’s up?”

“Andrew and I are doing a holiday special for Worth It, and we want both of you guys to come to a party we’re putting together. It’s December 13th.”

“Oh, yeah that should be fine. Just text me the details and we’ll be there.” I tell him, and he smiles, casts one last weird glance at Shane, and walks away.

I’ve had much weirder conversations with Steven Lim.

* * *

Shane and I have many things in common, but hobbies aren’t really among them. He enjoys reading and exploring nature, I like basketball and immersive experiences. So, we compromise for our next date and go on a nature walk.

“Seriously, Shane, please keep in mind that my legs are significantly shorter than yours. Slow down, dude.” I complain, hurrying to keep up with my sasquatch. I hear his laugh float back to me and roll my eyes.

“I wanna get to a good spot to watch the sunset, you can relax when we get there.” He says, and I squint at the sun. It’s low, but not so low that the sunset is upon us.

Even with Shane slowing down slightly for me, we manage to get to the place Shane was looking for, before sunset no less.

“Nice.” I say, almost reverently. Shane doesn’t respond, just reaches for my hand.

We sit on the edge of a small cliff facing the distant ocean, where the sun was just visible over the horizon. I looked over at Shane, studying his profile. The pinky-orange light made him look almost angelic, and his eyes sparkled as he looked forward. His Trademark Sad Eyes looked soft and nostalgic. I realized I was smiling.

“You know,” I begin, catching his attention. “I think I love you, Big Guy.” I tell him. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but his lips twitch up in that Shane-way that he has.

“I love you too, Ry. I have for a long time.” He admits, and I grin at him. He tugs me closer, and I rest my head against his shoulder. “What a beautiful moment,” he teases after a silence. I laugh.

"Shut up, Shane. Just enjoy it."

"You know I have a Midwestern aversion to heart to heart conversations," he says, "I have to break it up here and there."

"Okay, Big Guy, whatever you say. You're lucky you're cute." I tease, and don't miss the way his face gets just slightly pinker at that.

Really, the whole day was going too well to end any other way. I should’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but I guess love confessions tend to blind you like that.

My car is in sight, we’re on flat, level ground. Neither of us could really understand what happened looking back.

I was digging my keys out of my pocket, and Shane had paused to take a picture of a raccoon or a leaf or something.

“Ow, fuck! Fuck, shit-” Shane shouts from somewhere behind me. I spin around.

“You okay?”

“No, fuck, Ryan, I think I- I broke- broke my-”

“Oh my god!” I exclaim as I catch sight of Shane’s misaligned ankle. He’s leaning against a tree and lifting his foot. “Fuck, dude that’s broken, Shane. I need to call an ambulance.” I say, reaching for my phone. Shane freaks out more.

“No! No, just- no ambulance, please?” He says, gripping my arm so tightly my hand starts to tingle.

“You need an ambulance to get that taken care of, and like, painkillers.” I argue, helping him sit down. His face is twisted in pain and his lip is caught between his teeth as he takes big breaths.

“Don’t, please, don’t call, okay? Don’t call the ambulance, Ryan.” He pleads with me, looking into my eyes with a scared expression I didn’t know what to do with. I rub a hand up and down his back, hoping it’s at least a little soothing. “No ambulance.”

“Okay, no ambulance. I promise.” I tell him. I squat down next to him and take his hand, pressing it against my chest. “Feel my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Take a minute, we’ll figure this out.” I say. I can’t imagine why Shane wouldn’t want to get his obviously broken bones repaired, but I won’t find out with him in this state.

Once Shane has calmed down, I am able to let go with one arm and pull out my phone. Shane tries weakly to stop me.

“I’m calling the hospital to see what we can do,” I explain, trying again, but Shane shakes his head.

“I'm fine, Ryan, really. I need my doctor. Can you take me there please?” He asks, and I can’t say no. A doctor is better than nothing, even if it takes a while to get there. I’m just glad we’re just outside LA and not some rural state.

I drive Shane to the nondescript medical building he directs me to, where I grab him a wheelchair and bring him inside. He was quiet the whole ride, fists squeezed tight and thumping them occasionally against the door when the pain flared up. I drove as fast as I could.

I handle all the paperwork, since Shane is clearly unwell.

Once he’s checked in, the doctor comes out, thanks me, and takes Shane back. Shane squeezes my hand and smiles weakly, and then he’s gone.

I sit by myself in the waiting room for almost five hours while he's getting patched up. I go through all my emails, freak out a bit, go through Instagram and Twitter, freak out some more, pace, look at YouTube analytics, then wait for another four hours.

He is finally brought back out in a wheelchair, looking dazed and happy. The nurse gives me a bag of meds and some paper instructions, as well as some very long crutches.

Shane is wheeled out to the car, and we load him up with some difficulty since the pain meds make him too loopy to be cooperative. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Big Guy.” I tell him as I sit him down on the seat and help him navigate his foot inside the car. 

“I feel great, Ry,” he says, words slightly slurred from the drugs. I smile fondly at him.

“Okay, bud.” 

He’s quiet for the rest of the trip, messing with the radio a couple times but otherwise just looking out the window and breathing quietly.

I park in his spot at the apartment, hook my arm around his middle and we hobble to his door.

“I’m staying the night here, okay? Wanna make sure you’re okay.” I tell him, helping him hop up the stairs to his apartment. It’s a slow process.

“You should always stay the night here, I would like that.” Shane says softly, and I give his arm a little squeeze. _I wouldn't mind it either._

I hold him steady as he brushes his teeth and takes out his contacts. I hurry to get him through everything before the meds knock him out cold.

Once he’s in bed and snoring softly, I go around his apartment to Shane-proof everything - getting some dishes out of the high cabinet, putting salt and pepper on the table, trying to make it so he doesn’t have to carry things while on crutches. 

I’m still too energized from everything to sleep, so I get in bed with Shane and scroll through Instagram and Twitter a few more times.

I’m unaware of falling asleep at all, but I blink myself awake to the sunlight peeking through Shane’s blinds. Shane himself is complaining quietly on the other side of the bed, seemingly mostly sober again.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, voice groggy and hoarse.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you up?” Shane asks, and I roll over to face him.

“I don’t know, probably not. Do you need something?” 

“She put this on way too tight, I can’t feel my foot.” He says, lifting his leg from the mattress as if I would assume he meant the other foot.

“It’s supposed to be tight, isn’t it? So it doesn’t fall off.”

“Not this tight. I need to go back in today and have her fix it.” He says, groaning when he tries to get up.

“Okay, I need to shower but I can wear the same thing today, I don’t need to go home before we go back.” I say, moving to get up.

“Ry, you have that meeting with the brass today, we can’t both miss it.” Shane points out. 

“Oh fuck, you’re right. I could drop you off?” I offer. Shane shakes his head.

“I’ll take a Lyft, it’s not far anyway. I can use crutches.” He says, looking at them leaning against his nightstand. I sigh.

“Okay, but call me if you need anything, alright?” I make him promise. 

“I will.”

* * *

I did end up finishing my meeting before Shane was done at the doctor, so I let him know I’ll be there to pick him up. I had assumed he’d be home by then since he was just having the cast redone, but maybe there were complications from yesterday.

What I’m not prepared for is for him to walk out. Sans crutches.

“Shane, where the hell are your crutches?” I demand, jumping out of the car and jogging up to him as soon as he’s in eyeshot.

“I don’t need them anymore, I’m cleared.” He says, but won’t look me in the eye. I squint in the late afternoon sun at his ankle. It’s bandaged still, but not a cast. He’s barely even limping at all.

“Uhh, what the hell, dude? It was broken. Bones don’t just magically heal. Are you on medication?” I ask, my suspicion piqued and feeling very weird about this. Shane shakes his head.

“No, I don’t need meds. It’s fine, Ry, it’s better now.” He says, slipping his hand into mine with a squeeze, which feels a lot like a plea. I ignore it.

“What’s going on? This is not normal.” I push, and he finally looks at me, a weird expression on his face but otherwise calm.

“Let it go, Ryan. Please, for me?”

I don’t know why, but I feel like this is a part of a big secret I’m not in on. Or at least not yet. This is weird, and Shane is acknowledging it’s weird, but for some reason won’t explain it.

“Okay.” I say softly, then because I can’t let anything go, “I’ll stop pushing but I hope you’ll tell me sometime anyway.”

Shane doesn’t respond, just gives my hand another squeeze as we walk up to my car.

Shane is extra sweet all day, that strange look in his eyes from earlier motivating him. I can’t say I _mind_ him buying us dinner or letting me pick what we watch.

I especially don’t mind that he changes into shorts that blur the line between an acceptable outerwear item and underwear, outfit complete with a little white crop top and my letterman jacket from high school, which he also swiped from my closet when we cleared it out.

But at the same time, I wish he would just tell me what’s going on, how he inexplicably went from a broken bone to walking on it in the span of about 12 hours.

As the movie plays in the background, I run through all my theories over again, just to keep from going crazy.

Theory one: vampire. This theory is almost immediately dismissed since we’d just been in the sun together, he broke a bone, which I don’t think vampires are prone to (although what do I know) and he eats regular people food.

Theory two: demon. Again, I don’t think demons can break, especially not as easily as Shane’s ankle did. Plus, this is the one theory that he himself actually said is not true.

Theory three: I cringe, werewolf. This one is almost too ridiculous to even consider, but given the insanely fast healing rate, it does seem the most likely. But then, he's always so cold and aren't werewolves supposedly very warm?

I’ve zoned out, and realize that some time has passed when the credits roll and I barely remember any of the movie.

“You with me?” Shane teases, turning the tv off. I nod, still a bit absently.

“Sorry, guess I’m a little tired.” I say.

Shane responds by settling himself in my lap, my hands resting on those cool, smooth thighs. I silently add _not hairy enough_ to my werewolf theory list.

He rests his arms on my shoulders and leans in to give me a long kiss. He pulls back right as I’m starting to lean into it. I frown slightly.

“I love you.” He says, resting his forehead against mine.

“Are you trying to make me happy or horny?” I ask, teasing a little but not displeased with the turn this evening has taken.

“Mm… Maybe a little bit of both.” He says, that little twitch back in his smile. I grin, leaning in for another kiss.

So what if he’s a werewolf? He’s my werewolf.

* * *

“You coming?” Shane asks when 5 o’clock hits. He’s shoving his computer back into its case, disentangling his headphones. I scroll through the video files I’m working with. I'd been phoning it in for the past couple of days with Shane's injury, but now that's come back to bite me in the ass.

“I don’t think so, I have a lot to get through still.” I say, hearing how bummed I sound.

He plugs his headphones into his phone, zipping up his bag but leaving it on the desk.

“I’ll stick around then.” He says, a smile on his lips. He puts his headphones over his ears again, scrolling through music. I look up at him.

“You don’t have to, you should get some rest.” I protest, although it’s token at best and we both know it. Shane shrugs.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides, it's my show too, even if I can't help you right now, I can keep you company while you work.” He offers.

So, he sat on the floor by my left leg, his own sprawled out along the floor, and wrapped his arms loosely around my knee. He leans his head on my thigh.

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking down at his relaxed face. Fuck, it’s very cute.

“I sat in my chair all day, my back hurts.” He shrugs, closing his eyes. I smile, turning back to my work.

Unsurprisingly, Steven Lim is also there late. He passes our desks on his way out, doing a double take when he starts to wave goodnight.

"Look, I didn't say anything before, but seriously, Ryan, did you put some kind of spell on him?" He asks, his voice that indiscernible cross between teasing and serious.

I look down at Shane snoozing against my leg. It’s eerily similar to last time, just in a different spot of the office. I look back up.

“It’s called love, Steven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Subscribe if you want to hear when the Final Chapter is out!


	18. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thrilling finale that you've all been waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming out a tad later than I'd planned, but it's Christmas Eve! What can you do. My husband was kind enough to play The Witcher in the other room while I finished writing/posting this.  
> Here is the long awaited finale to this story. It's monstrously long but I couldn't bring myself to split it up and post it in two chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

“Seriously, Shane, why the hell are you so cold all the time? Even your mouth is cold.”

Shane looks at me like I’m missing something obvious, but shakes his head.

We’re on his couch, absently watching Bale’s _Batman_ after a long day of filming. Most of _my_ attention, at least, is focused on the feeling of Shane’s leg as I run my fingers up and down his thigh, conveniently in my lap again. He might be actually watching the movie, but he’s been biting softly at the inside of my free hand’s wrist on and off for the last ten minutes or so, which has taken up the rest of my attention. He stops when I look over at him to answer my question.

“I’ve told you, I’m a lot of person, my circulation is not at its peak.” He shrugs, taking the last drink of his beer, like he’s daring me to tell him he’s wrong.

“What a load of horseshit, dude, I’ve known plenty of tall people in my life that aren’t as cold as you.” I say, pushing my fingers against the side of his throat as if to prove my point to myself. His pulse runs slowly below my hand. His heartbeat never seems to go above where mine is at a resting beat, even when we’re setting up sets or he gets nervous before live events. Even when we’re doing something sexy, his heartbeat is far slower than mine. That might say more about me than it does him, though.

“Believe what you want, there’s nothing wrong with being as cool as me.” He jokes, pulling me down on top of him as he leans against the armrest of the couch. I smile as I get comfortable on top of him.

“Let's get one thing straight. I never said you were cool, I said cold.” I tease, kissing each eyelid so he’s forced to close them. He laughs, but doesn’t respond, so I keep going. “That might be what makes us such a great duo, though. You’re _cool,_ ” I push his hair off his forehead to press my lips to his skin. “and I’m hot.” I smirk. He laughs louder, opening his eyes again.

“That is something we can agree on.”

Those long, cool fingers run up my spine under my shirt, making me shiver. I lean back down to kiss him, his lips soft and damp against mine. He tastes like beer, and faintly of pizza. His teeth gently nip at my lower lip, then his tongue runs along the same spot.

At a certain point, I come to the conclusion that the couch is not the best place for our current activities to continue, so I get up, pulling him by the hand into his bedroom.

A few minutes later, we’re tangled together in a way that’s becoming familiar. His sheets feel luxurious against my naked skin, and although it’s not the first time I’m seeing him fully naked, I take my time exploring every inch of his pale skin.

“Hey,” he interrupts my exploration. I look up from where I’m sucking a bruise into his hip. “Tonight would be a good night to consummate this relationship.” He offers. I let go of the skin between my teeth.

“Is that not what we’re doing? What we've done for like the past week?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He skirts, combing his fingers through my hair and not meeting my eye.

“Shane, are you offering to let me put my dick in your ass?” I ask. “Because that’s not really what you’re saying but I’m not sure what else you might mean.”

“Yeah, Ry, that’s what’s on the table here.” He says, flushing a little pink but at least he’s looking me in the face now.

“I’d like you to say it.” I push, sitting up more so we can have an actual conversation. He rolls his eyes, huffs out a big breath, but complies.

“Ry, will you fuck my ass please?” He says quietly, and _oh fuck_. That's hot.

I lean down to kiss him deeply, licking his bottom lip before answering.

“It would be my pleasure, Big Guy.”

"Ha ha."

He's rolling his eyes, but we know how much we both want this. Before he can say anything else, I manhandle him onto his belly, his long legs sprawled out behind him.

"Fuck, Ry." Shane says breathlessly. I grin, smacking his butt cheek.

"You ready to get this show on the road?" I tease, running my hands down the back of his thighs as I reposition myself between them. Shane just snorts lightly

I will admit, I've done a lot of research since my initial revelation of my interests in guys. One recurring idea that won't leave me alone is eating Shane's ass. So I lean down, taking a bite of the lower curve of the cheek, testing the waters. Shane's hips dip against the bed as he groans.

"Shane?" I ask, settling my thumb over his hole and gently pressing, not to go inside but to get his attention. Seems like I have it.

"Huh," he grunts. I smile.

"Do you have any objections to me eating you out?" I ask, and immediately Shane's back arches as he presses down into the mattress.

"Please?" He breathes, looking back at me. That's all I needed to hear.

With all the grace and confidence of someone who has never done this before, I bury my face between his cheeks and start licking at his hole. It doesn't really have a taste, and is as cool as I expected it to be. I don't find myself minding all that much.

Shane seems to like whatever I'm doing, so I grip his thighs and eat his ass like a champ.

My tongue cramps a couple minutes in, but it's not the worst feeling in the world. I push it into Shane's ass as much as I can, following with one finger. Shane groans into a pillow.

I give my mouth a rest while I loosen Shane up with my fingers, going slow at first but picking up the pace as he relaxes. It's not long before he's sort of riding my fingers and boy, isn't that a sight.

"Ry, I think I'm uh- I'm, I think-" Shane huffs, and I keep up the rhythm so I can continue enjoying the flush he's taken on and the stutter he's acquired.

"What was that, Big Guy?" I tease, curling my fingers against his prostate. He wails.

"Just fucking put it in me, already, fuck!" He says, panting.

And well, who am I to say no to such a polite request.

Several breaths, a squirmy Shane and a heavy amount of lube later, I'm poised at his entrance and ready to go.

"C'mon, coward, put it in." Shane complains, shifting backwards and bumping into me. I take his cue and push in, slowly. He drops back down to the mattress with a grunt, and I lean over him, breathing heavily. 

"You're so fucking tight Shane." I say, my voice strained. He blows out a breath.

"No shit, you're in my asshole." He says, but I shut him up as I thrust in the rest of the way. He's wheezing on the bed and I hold still, gathering my wits.

"What was that?" I taunt, and Shane doesn't respond. "Yeah, that's what I fucking thought." I laugh, pulling out slightly and fucking back into him slowly.

I was wholly unprepared for this experience. The squeeze he managed on every third thrust, the visual of Shane sprawled out in front of me, everything worked together to push me toward my demise. I can't think of a better way to go.

Once I got a rhythm going, all I could think of was not coming too early. I want this to be as good for Shane as it already is for me.

"Ry, I'm not gonna last-" Shane said, meeting me thrust for thrust. Well, that sort of takes care of that problem.

"Me neither, Big Guy. You feel so fucking good." I tell him, gripping his hips harder. "Wait, wait-" I stop, catching his hips. He whimpers. "No no, I just wanna- can you flip over? I wanna see you." I tell him, pulling out. He grumbles, but rolls onto his back.

His whole face, neck and chest are flushed, forehead glistening with sweat and his cock - god, his cock - is leaking precum like I've never seen. _fuck_ he looks so fucking good.

"You look so fucking good, Shane." I tell him as I reposition myself and thrust back into him. He groans again.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" He starts, back arching off the bed and fists tangled in the sheets. His ass clenches around me so tightly I can't help but yell. Fuck the neighbors.

"C'mon Shane, go ahead-" I tell him, fucking harder and faster, so the mattress hits the wall with dull thuds.

With a guttural noise, Shane does come, with me not far behind him. He spills all over his belly and chest, and I come in his ass, catching myself on my elbows as I fall onto him.

"Well fuck." I say, trying to catch my breath as my heartbeat pounds in my face.

"Yeah, you can say that again." Shane laughs. I lean down to kiss him.

"I love you, Big Guy." I tell him when I pull back. He grins.

"Love you too, lil guy."

* * *

A few days before we were set to film the last episode of True Crime for the season, Shane texted me around 9:40am.

Shane: sick w flu

Shane: working from home but prob not very good work today

Ryan: nw, ill cover for u

That was that. I decided to take some food over later but otherwise leave him alone for the day. The worst thing when you feel like shit is when coworkers send you new things to worry about when you can barely focus on the work you already have.

After work, I went to the store to get some comfort items as well as some flu medication, then over to Shane’s apartment. I wish I had stopped by home to get my spare keys so he wouldn’t have to get up and let me in.

As soon as Shane opened the door, I could tell something was weird. Not just sick-Shane weird, although that was definitely a factor, but Shane-Shane weird.

Maybe it was the deep red stain under his mouth in the shape of a drip, maybe it was the fact that his fingernails weren’t painted but still looked blue grey, maybe it was the red stain in his cuticles and the empty cup in his hand with what definitely looked like blood ringed around the bottom. He didn’t seem to notice me staring as he let me in.

“Hey, call me crazy, but uh… are... are you cheating on me with... murder?” I ask, trying to go for lighthearted in case it’s a really thick cranberry juice or something so I can play it off as a joke. Shane squinted at me.

“Huh?” He sniffles, blinking at me. He really does look awful, must be a bad flu.

“Looks a bit like you’re drinking blood from an Unsolved mug there.” I gesture, and he looks down at his hand, like he forgot what he was holding. He lifts it a little, laughing.

“Oh! No, donated, I haven’t murdered recently.” He says with a wink, which make my eyes shoot open and my brows race for my hairline. He only laughs more, gesturing for me to move to the living room.

“So that’s blood?” I confirm, feeling like this is maybe too crazy to be real, just an overplayed joke. I wouldn’t put it past him. This is the man who pulled a similar stunt with the black contacts just a couple months ago.

“Yeah, it’s blood. I got it from the doctor this morning. I didn’t think you’d be this weird about seeing it, but I get that it’s a little disturbing, I can keep it away from you.” He offers, misunderstanding my confusion.

“I don’t care where you got it, why are you drinking it?” I push, and he pauses to look at me, picking up on the confusion and panic in my face.

“I’m a vampire, Ryan, I thought you’d figured that out by now. Seriously? You didn’t research it or anything?” He asks, noting my still-baffled face. He grabs a tissue from the box sitting on the couch and noisily blows his nose.

“You’re what?? You think I’m going to find accurate information about that on Wikipedia?” I ask, eyebrows still high on my forehead.

“No, I’m not a mythological creature, Ryan-” He begins, but I cut him off.

“You literally _just said_ you’re a vampire, dude!”

“Broadly speaking.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I mean technically speaking, I’m basically a human person.”

“You can’t be _basically_ a human, you either are or you’re not!” I protest.

“…but my species is homo parasitus instead of homo sapiens.” He continues, ignoring my interruption. “It’s a medically confirmed fact, you can ask a doctor. It’s not hard to find actual research articles on if you’re really looking, but you’ll have to look further than your beloved Wikipedia.” He explains, which only baffles me more.

“What?”

“What part did you not get?” He almost sighs.

“Start over.”

“My family and I belong to a slightly different species from you, homo parasitus, which was storytold into what most people recognize as vampires. So, loosely, I’m a vampire.”

“Okay.” I say flatly.

“The difference is that people like me tend to have very slow healing processes, which is typically helped by consuming blood, via drinking or transfusion. I prefer to drink it.”

“Okay.”

“When I broke my ankle, I got a transfusion, that’s how I healed so quickly.”

“Okay.”

“And now that I have the flu, I was prescribed three ounces of blood, sort of a flu-medication substitute. I should be fine in a few days. Are you alright?” He says, leaning casually against the counter.

“What the _fuck,_ Shane??” I ask, at a loss for any other words. “You were lying this whole time?”

“To be fair, I never told you I wasn't a vampire. In fact, I did confirm it several times, you just didn’t believe me.” He says, lifting his hands to placate me. 

“That doesn’t count!”

“I'm mostly just a different species of animal, we like to say... more recently domesticated. Pretty close to humans but just a little different, better senses, more shallowly buried instincts, I can live longer, that kind of thing. There are tons of animal species that feed off blood, bats, birds, mosquitoes…”

"Shane, I need you to understand that I’m really trying to hold it together." I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, feeling like this has to be an elaborate dream. My brain is still processing everything when he reaches an arm out to brush his fingers against my arm.

“It’s not really a big deal, Ryan, please-” He says, softer now, and I see his feet move closer.

I let him take my hands, just looking into his eyes as they silently plead with me. He still looms over me, but there’s something about his expression that makes him look smaller. Scared, almost. Like this might be something he thinks he’ll lose me – _us –_ over.

It’s cute he thinks he can get rid of me that easily. I squeeze his hands in a way I hope is reassuring. His shoulders lose some of their tension.

"Why did you lie to me? You told me you were a demon, that’s way worse." I ask, less upset now, but more genuinely confused.

It was a long time before Shane finally answered, quiet and not meeting my eyes.

“It was all a bit, you never truly believed that I was a monster. This scientifically proves that I am.”

“Oh my god, you’re not a monster, Shane, don’t be so dramatic. This isn’t a direct-to-tv movie.” I look up at him, a small smile twitching at my lips. He’s not as amused, but I can see his body shift in relief, the sag in his shoulders returning. He opens his mouth to talk again but I keep going. “Like you said, not that big of a deal, right? You’re just more recently swinging from trees while I learned to write.” I tease, tapping the top of his foot with mine, a gentle step. Now, he smiles.

“Thanks, Ry.”

I wait a few beats, then finally ask what’s been at the back of my mind.

“So, when were you actually born? I still don’t know your birthday.”

He laughs once, more out of surprise than anything.

“May 16… 1934.” He says, watching me closely.

“Fuck, Shane, seriously?” I say, impressed. “You look good for, what, 80 something?”

“Give or take. I wasn’t planning on living this long, but I’ve had a little too much blood to die sooner.”

“How does that work?”

“Blood heals any issues I may have had, so if I had blood a month ago, any heart attacks coming my way are fully out of the way. More or less.” He explains.

“So, you can’t turn other people into vampires?” I confirm. “That’s just part of the myth?”

“Yeah, no more than a frog can turn into a lizard or whatever.”

“Bummer, I got really excited at first.” I joke, and Shane laughs, but his face does a weird expression I don’t understand. “Well, I came here with some soup and a lot of popcorn, did you still want any of that?” I ask, changing the subject.

“I just drank blood, so I’ll save the soup for tomorrow. But popcorn sounds good.” He smiles, a little crooked grin on his lips. I smile back.

“Make yourself comfortable, pick a movie and I’ll get it ready.” I tell him, heading into the kitchen with my bag.

Ten minutes later, we were cuddled up on the couch watching _Hot Fuzz_ , Shane’s head in my lap and popcorn bowl on his stomach. I had one hand gently stroking through his hair, the other grabbing popcorn. Shane was pecking at it, and I was restraining myself from eating handfuls at a time.

Right as Angel managed to escape the town, I remembered something from earlier.

“Let me see your nails?” I say, but it comes out as a question. Shane gives me a weird look, but puts his hand in mine so I can hold it up to my face.

“Why are you so obsessed with my nails?” He asks.

“Why do you have blood on them?” I ask, ignoring him. He shrugs.

“Have you ever tried to open a blood bag without spilling any? It’s not made for my convenience.”

“I can truthfully say I’ve never opened a blood bag period, so. Your nails are blue.” I say, finally commenting on what I’d been so curious about for so long. “They look like mine when I’m really cold.”

“Yeah, have you felt my body temperature? I run at a cool 90 degrees, 85 if it’s cold out. It freaks people out, that’s why I usually paint them.” He says, looking at them himself. I frown.

“That makes sense.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He prods, looking up at me. I looked back at the tv, releasing his hand.

“I don’t know, I think it’s really hot when you have them painted. It’s cool. Sexy.” I shrug.

“Wow, cool _and_ hot? I should grab some nail polish now.” He teases, and I roll my eyes.

“Shut up, Shane.”

More time passed, and I could see Shane getting sleepy.

“This reminds me of that time you showed up at my apartment at 2 in the morning covered in hickeys.” I say, voice quieter now. Shane’s eyebrows perk up but his eyes close.

“Yeah, this isn’t anything like that for me.”

“Why not? You’re not feeling well, I’m here to take care of you, and we’re sort of cuddling.” I shrug, petting his side. He almost unconsciously snuggles closer to me, and I smile.

“Because that time, I was fucking terrified.” He says, taking a breath. I frown. “I’d just come from that bar that has a lot of vampires.” He explains, opening his eyes and looking back at the tv.

“LA has a vampire bar?” I interrupt.

“The bar doesn’t know it. Anyway, I sometimes get blood there, but I usually just go for fun, they have good drinks, and usually plenty of hot people. Obviously, it’s been awhile since I’ve gone for the people though.” He adds, glancing at me. I nod. “That night, another vampire spotted me.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not always. But this is one of the really old guys who wants to stay alive. Probably has been around since Rome or at least the Middle Ages. I was fine with giving a little, but he took way more than he should’ve. I almost passed out, and I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have stopped him.” His tone is flat, emotionless, but I’ve known him long enough to not be fooled by it.

“Fuck, Shane, I’m sorry-” I say, but he keeps going.

“When I finally got away from him, I thought I was going to pass out before getting home and I was afraid he would follow me, so I came here. I knew you’d make me feel better.” He says, eyes slipping shut again. I squeeze his hand.

“You were scared that night?” I ask, whispering. He shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“Yeah, why else would I wake you up in the middle of the night? I’m not an asshole.” He says, his eyes opening to dare me to respond to that. I let it go.

“You could’ve told me.” I say, as gently as I can. He almost doesn’t have to respond, his expression is so telling.

“Uh, ‘please let me in, Ryan, a vampire took my blood and might be following me.’ Yeah, that would’ve been chill.” He says.

“Okay, so maybe leave the vampire part out and say you hooked up or something? Or told me about being a vampire earlier?” I offer, and he smiles.

“I guess so.”

“I’m glad you told me now, though.” I say, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“I am too.”

He fell asleep not long after, snoring louder than usual. I can't bring myself to care, I'm just happy to be with him and able to take care of him.

With him asleep, I have time to ponder over what he told me earlier. Hilarious that my ludicrous vampire theory that everyone had laughed at was the correct one. _fuck you, Zach. Werewolf my ass._

He's been alive for longer than I can imagine, which kind of explains some of that strange, old worldy charm he has, as well as a lot about his fashion sense.

The second movie I'd played ended, and I decided to bring Shane to bed. This time, he didn't wake up at all as I tucked his longass legs into the rumpled blankets, pulling them over his shoulders and to his chin.

Even with the extra comforter he'd added since last time I was in here, I could see him shivering and shrinking into a tight ball. Before I can think too hard about it, I climbed under the blankets behind him and cuddled up close. I’d gotten a flu shot so wasn’t too concerned about catching anything from him.

Shane slowly relaxes against my body, shivers fading. I rub my thumb up and down his hip bone, my nose buried in the back of his neck as I start to drift off too.

For the second time, I wake up hearing Shane grumbling softly.

“I need to call my doctor, get another prescription.” Shane complains, congested and cranky when he sees I'm awake. I have to smile, pouty Shane is one of the top cutest Shanes.

“For blood?” I ask, settling him against my chest and kissing his neck.

“Yeah, for blood. Flu meds don’t do a whole lot for me.” He says, closing his eyes and getting comfortable.

I think for awhile, just stroking his arm and realizing an easier way to help Shane get better in time to film, now just over a day away.

This likely won’t be the easiest conversation to have.

I try to sound casual as I ask.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“I'd do anything for you.” Shane says, and I can’t help but grin a little at that.

“Sweet of you. Would you consider biting me?” I suggest, a little nervous.

“No.” It’s immediate and definite. I try again.

"Have you bitten other people before?" I prod, curious. He sighs, rolling away from me onto his side, but keeping his cold feet against my leg.

"Sure I have, but it's been a long time, and you have no idea what you're doing."

"Shane-"

"This isn’t up for debate, Ryan. I’m not going to bite you." He says, and I grip his arm to get his attention, rolling him back in my direction to look at him. His eyes are a little puffy from sleep and his nose is bright red.

“Look, do you want to be ready to film or not? There's no way you can be on screen looking like this. You can take more than a few ounces and it won’t cost the small fortune it will at the doctor.” I reason, and I can feel the moment he gives in. His shoulders move from tense to loose and resigned.

“I’m not saying yes, but-” He begins, and I feel a furl of excitement run through me. He must sense it, because he talks a little louder. “BUT, I’ll think about it.” He agrees, and I can’t bite back my smile.

Weird thing to be smiling about, my boyfriend biting me and drinking my blood, but it has a certain appeal I haven't been able stop thinking about since he first told me.

“Okay, that’s reasonable.” I say, my tone bland and normal, even with the warmth I can feel in my face. Shane lets out a snicker, though he coughs immediately after. I pass him the water from his nightstand, which he chokes down gratefully.

"I'm gonna go shower." He says, sliding out of the bed and shuffling across the room towards the bathroom.

"Okay, Big Guy. I'll be here if you need anything." I say, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and opening up my Instagram.

I wait for him to shut to water off before I start getting up, grabbing my towel off his hook and slinging over my shoulder as I finish scrolling through my friends' posts. I lean against the wall waiting for him to be done in the bathroom.

“I’ve decided.” Shane announces, and I look up at him from my phone.

He’s standing in the bathroom doorway, a tissue bunched up in one hand and another held to his nose in the other. He sounds awful.

“You sound awful.” I comment. He glares at me.

“Okay, fuck you. As I was saying, I’ve decided. If you’re still volunteering, I think I could do with some blood.” He says, and my eyebrows lift.

“I am still volunteering, and it’s about time.” I say, hanging the towel back up and pulling my tshirt over my head. I don’t miss the way his eyes roam my chest before they meet mine again.

“It’s gonna hurt, you know.” He warns, tossing away the tissues and coming back out to the bed. I shrug.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He mutters under his breath. I huff, settling onto the bed and getting comfortable. “Where do you want me to bite?” He asks, laying down on top of me and sniffling slightly.

“Where do you usually bite?”

“Depends on the situation. If it’s someone I’m just taking blood from, usually the wrist. If I’m uh… seducing them, for lack of a better word, neck or shoulder.” He says, resting on his elbows above me. I consider.

“Okay, let’s do shoulder. That’s easy to cover up.”

“Alright, last chance to back out. It’s not as sexy as you’re thinking it’ll be.” He warns, leaning in. I feel his inhale, the gentle brush of his nose against my skin as he inhales. I shudder slightly. It’s definitely not as sexy. It's way more sexy.

“I’m all in, baby, dig in.” I joke, tilting my head away to give him more room. He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“Unbelievable.”

His lips brush against my skin, finding the place to bite, the pulse point. He catches my eye one more time, his teeth bared, poised to bite. I raise my eyebrows, almost challenging him.

He must see what he’s looking for, because the next second, he digs those slightly-sharper-than-average teeth into my skin. It hurts for a second, but I feel adrenaline pumping through me, and I settle back into the pillow and let him go for it.

It feels… strange… to have blood leaving so fast. He’s careful – or at least I’m assuming he is – and I think he has incentive to not kill me.

Oddly enough, I can feel myself getting hard. It’s confusing and strange, and I can tell when Shane notices. He looks up at me, teeth still sunk into my skin and blood leaking out of the cut.

It’s unfair how arousing I find it.

When I don’t say anything, Shane pulls away. He’s gentle, but it still feels incredibly weird. He licks at the gash a couple times to slow the bleeding.

“Are you getting off on this?” He asks, sounding almost loopy but still grinning. The way he's talking reminds me of when he left the doctor's office after getting his ankle cast. His teeth are red with my blood. I squint.

“I guess?” Is all I can say. He shakes his head with a smile, going back to lick up the blood oozing from my shoulder. It feels… nice. It stings slightly, but it’s a feeling I’m sure I could get used to.

Hell, I’m already getting used to it.

“How are you doing?” Shane asks. I evaluate.

“I’m good. It’s gory, but kinda hot?” I explain. He laughs.

“You’re a freak, you know that, Bergara?”

“I was aware, thank you.”

“I’ll get you a bandage.” Shane offers, moving to get off me, but I grab his arms to stop him.

“C’mon, Big Guy, that’s it? Was that supposed to hurt?” I say, grinning up at him and way too turned on by the blood dripping from his lips and chin.

Faint fuzziness in the back of my vision be damned.

“Bite me again.”

“You sure, Ry? I took a good amount, I could just-”

I cut him off by pulling his face down to my shoulder again, insistent. Shane takes a long sniff, licking up the remains of his last bite before gripping my hip tighter and sinking his teeth in again. My groan is all I can hear as the blood pounds in my ears.

I really shouldn’t be so turned on by this.

Shane takes what he describes as ‘the proper dosage for treating a flu.’ By the time he’s done, I’m shaky and horny beyond reason. Considering how much he took, I really shouldn't have enough to power my boner, but here we are.

Shane pats my side, getting off me to get a bandage.

I doze off while he’s gone without meaning to. I’m startled when I feel weight shift the bed.

“Here, drink this.” Shane says, holding out a glass of orange juice for me. I move to sit up, but fall back down at the feeling of my skin ripping along my shoulder.

“Fuck, that actually really hurts now.” I grumble as he pulls me up with a lanky arm around my back.

“Yeah, after the adrenaline wears off, it really sucks.” He says, no doubt experienced in this brand of pain. “It’ll just look like hickeys in a day or so.” He assures me.

“Wait, is that why you always had so many hickeys all the time?” I say, chugging the water. He laughs.

“Sometimes. Most of the time, I just had really good sex though.” He looks sheepish. “I like being marked.” I grin back.

“I know.”

I lean in, nipping at his neck before pulling away with a frown. I put one hand against his neck, then forehead, then cheek. I’m so used to his skin being on the cool side that the warmth is strange to me.

“You're burning up, can vampires get fevers?” I ask, comparing the temperature to the warmth of my own skin.

“Of course, I can get fevers, I’m not dead.” He retorts, but answers when I give him a look. “I’m warm because of all the blood I just drank, it’s working.”

“Freaky. It’s weird when you’re a normal temperature.” I admit, feeling his warm hands and frowning.

“Do you have a thing for corpses? Oh my god, is this why you’re so interested in researching crimes? I notice talking about death and violence excites you, you fucking weirdo.” He looks aghast, but I can see the joke in his eyes.

“Fuck off, I like _you,_ who just happens to run cold.”

“Hmm.” He huffs, curling up next to me. I smile against his neck.

"Do you find a lot of people who are into the cold pale person angle?" I ask, sort of teasing, but also curious. Shane snorts.

"Believe it or not, most people get a little nervous and not turned on around corpse-like things."

"You're not corpse-like, you run cool, not deathly cold. This isn't Twilight dude." I counter, my hand finding his and giving it a squeeze.

"You're right, sadly I do not sparkle in the sunlight." He answers flatly. I snort.

"Yeah, real bummer about that."

"To answer your question, most people don't really notice or mention that I run cold, maybe flinch a little if it's too cold but otherwise it's not really a big thing." He shrugs. He already sounds a little better.

"Do you tell them about being a vampire?" I ask.

"Not usually. Every now and then, more recently, people are aware that such a thing exists, but for a long time, I just kept it to myself and my family. Casual wasn't as easy then as it is now." He admits, and I lay quiet for awhile.

"When did you know you liked people other than girls?" I ask. He laughs.

"I guess I always sort of knew in the back of my mind, but given the time, I didn't really consider it until I was in my 20s. I stopped caring about a lot of things then."

"Being 20 sounds like it hasn't changed a lot since then." I say, looking over at Shane. He huffs a little, giving a little nod of concession.

It was quiet again for a little while, but now that Shane is answering my questions honestly, I want to know more about him.

"When was the first time you... did it. With a guy." I ask, shifting a little to look at him fully.

"Not a guy, but the first time I did it with someone with a dick was in the late 60's. The trans acceptance movement was getting some publicity then, and she told me she was trans shortly after we met. I liked her, so we went out a few times. I'm pretty sure she had reassignment surgery later, but that was long after I knew her. First time with a guy was when I was dating a guy off and on in the 70's who I briefly lived with, but he wasn't it for me. I guess everyone kind of thought we were roommates, and he didn't care to correct them." He says. His voice seems a little nostalgic, but somehow feels removed from that part of his life. Granted, it was a long time ago.

"Do you miss people you knew?" I ask, my voice almost a whisper. It feels inappropriate to talk any louder than Shane.

"Sometimes. But you get used to people coming in and out of your life after a few decades of that happening." He says, blinking a couple times and looking at me.

"How long were you single before me?"

"Several years. Moving to California was difficult, you know I don't make friends very easily. It was hard to go from a place where I'd run into people I knew in the grocery store to somewhere that I didn't know a single person."

"Sounds awful." I agree. I'm friendlier than Shane, but it takes time for me to consider someone my 'friend.' I couldn't move away from everything I knew.

"Wasn't great. BuzzFeed helped a lot, though. I mean, obviously." He says, a little smile finally coming back to his face. I smile back.

"Obviously."

"Any other pressing questions?" He teases, rolling to hover over me, bracketing me in with his arms on either side of my shoulders. I run through the questions that had come and go while we've talked, but it's very distracting to have him right above me, looking down.

“So you said before that sometimes you take blood from just... a donor, I guess. But sometimes it's like, sexy?" I begin, and Shane nods, prompting me to continue. "Do people know you're taking blood?"

"Usually. Sometimes, when I was a lot younger, I'd do it without them realizing. Like I said, after a day it just looks like a hickey, so a place like the back of the neck, shoulder, whatever, they didn't even know it was cut. Sex was a good distraction." He says. "I'm not proud of it, but."

"So I guess then, uh, what’s your body count?” I ask, a little nervous for the answer.

I wonder silently if this real life version of vampires kill as easily and thoughtlessly as in every other vampire story. I can’t believe that of Shane, it doesn’t sit right.

“You really wanna know?" He asks, frowning slightly. I nod. "I know I’m a bit older than you realized, my count is a bit disproportional to normal people's.” He says, giving me a weird look.

“I think I need to know. I won’t stop wondering.” I admit. He takes a deep breath, like he's thinking back and trying to count.

“It’s probably in the hundreds. I never really kept track, and after a few dozen, it just gets hard to remember them all.” He says, not meeting my eyes, but not exactly sounding remorseful.

My eyebrows are close to my hairline.

“Hundreds??”

“I mean, I know it’s a lot, but I have been alive for a long time, and being with a man romantically wasn’t really an option until more recently, only secret affairs. I’m a slut Ryan, this isn’t news.” He says, and my mind is spinning trying to decipher what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?” I finally sputter.

“Only in like the last 25 years would actually dating a man be an option, so before that, it was mostly all one-night things.” He says, shrugging. Realization dawns as I consider my original question.

“Oh my god, Shane, I don’t give a fuck how many people you’ve slept with. I was asking how many people you’ve like… taken too much blood from?” I explain, ending on a question because asking point blank how many people he’s killed seems offensive somehow.

Now Shane looks shocked.

“You wanna know if I’ve killed anyone?” He stammers. I nod vaguely. “What the hell, Ryan? I’ve never killed anyone. I rarely even get blood from a person, that’s what healthcare is for. Last time I had to get undiagnosed blood was in like '63!”

“You can’t be mad at me for asking if you’ve sucked anyone dry after telling me you’re a vampire and biting me! You said you hadn't murdered anyone _lately_ when you opened the door earlier!” I protest. “Vampires are almost always killers in any story you read, I’m going off what I know here!”

“Ryan, almost nothing of what I’ve told you about real vampires aligns with _fictional_ stories, what makes you think the murdery aspect would be true?” 

“I don’t know? I’m sorry, man, this is new to me.” I sputter.

“Okay, I’m going to send you a few articles about what to expect with vampires.” Shane mutters, yawning. "I think it's high time we get up and eat sometime. Especially you, mister monster fucker."

“Yeah yeah, I'm gonna shower and I want eggs ready by the time I get out as a thank you for my donation." I joke, crawling out from under Shane to grab my towel again and head to the bathroom.

"You will, but only out of the goodness of my heart."

* * *

We were wrapping up filming, which Shane had recovered miraculously for, when the last theory I brought up mentioned vampires. Shane had little to no reaction to it, so I goaded him further.

"You're going to let that slide? I said vampires did it, man." I tease. Obviously Shane has not told the world about vampires, and as far as I know he doesn't plan to, but what's the point in knowing the secret if I can't mess with him?

"Sure. Bite marks on the neck and a corpse mostly drained of blood." He shrugs, looking over at me. I sputter a little.

"You're going to let me say a mythical creature killed this guy?"

"Look, plenty of people have a fetish or delusion that they have to drink blood to live, and they get carried away. Mythical creatures have nothing to do with this. I'm fine with that explanation. This is not like your dumb Underwater Atlantis theory." He says calmly while I cackle. I look back at the camera.

“So Shane believes in aliens and vampires but like in the most boring way. Nothing exciting, just 'oh, it's probably bacteria on Mars,' and 'it wasn't a _real_ vampire, Ryan, just someone playing a vampire on tv.'” I say, and Shane snorts.

“Reality is not boring, Ryan. I'm a man of science, and I believe everything that seems unexplainable could be explained by science, even if we don't understand it yet.” 

“He thinks they’re just humans who can drink blood, no superpowers or anything.” I continue, ignoring Shane. "There's 'science' for you."

The great thing about this bit is that nobody will even realize how funny it really is.

Shane rolls his eyes a bit and Katie motions for us to continue with the script. It's getting late and the crew is tired of us prolonging this whole shoot.

We wrap, and Shane grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, turning to me and saying in a low voice.

"Nice vampire bit, real funny stuff." The twinkle in his eye tells me he's not offended, so I just grin, pulling my mic out of my collar.

"I think it plays well. I'm going to leave it in the cut."

"You'd better."

* * *

As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to buy it. Ten minutes later, a confirmation email pinged in my queue and I hid my grin from Shane, who looked over curiously.

Fortunately for me, something diverted his attention before he could ask, and he let the matter rest.

Five business days later, a package arrived at my door, squishy and compact enough to only be one thing.

I threw the packaging away, a big smile on my face as I went into my bedroom to find Shane, white jersey knit bunched in a fist behind my back.

“Hey Big Guy, I found the perfect tshirt to start your collection!” I say, grinning widely. Shane looks up from the book he's reading.

“Collection? I’ve never owned a tshirt and I don’t intend to start now.” He scoffs.

“I think you’ll change your mind when you see this one.” I say, holding up the white tee in front of him so he can see the text. In bold black letters across the front, it reads ‘I <3 my altitude problem,’ with a big red heart.

“Because you’re tall!” I grin, and he tips his head back to start laughing.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the middle. I’m cropping it.” He concedes, taking it from my hand and opening the drawer where we keep scissors.

“Well, this turned out even better for me, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, many thousand words later! Thank you for reading, it means so much that I get to share these funny little tales with you all. This story got so much more love than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kudos and especially your comments! If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I'd love to hear if you guessed right before reading this chapter:)   
> Now that this story is complete, I'm going to be working on The Angel Man and my new story, with Witch!Ryan. If you're interested, go check those out on my profile!  
> Also, to anyone who celebrates, happy celebrating! Hope you're all staying safe out there and that I can bring some joy to your evening.


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